


Keeping it together

by MrsLittletall



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Gen, Grief, Mention of major character death, Mourning, Vomiting, mental breakdowns, nothing too bad, ornstein literally looks at almost every dead boss from the dlc, personal interpretation of canon lore, some canon typical violence, some corpses, stress-induced sickness, this story is mostly drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 56,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsLittletall/pseuds/MrsLittletall
Summary: The death of Artorias takes a toll on the health of the dragon slayer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ornstein receives a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this story for a long time in mind now, my interpretation of how Ornstein received Artorias death. But I kinda fell out of the story and abandoned it for quite some time before coming back to it. Enjoy the first chapter.

"Captain, I have a message for you."

Ornstein turned to the silver knight with a huff: “How often do I have to tell you to not interrupt silver knight training?”

“I am sorry, captain, but I think you should look at this..”, the silver knight said and showed Ornstein the seal on the message. Ornstein recognized it instantly as Ciaran's hornet seal. That was a reason to worry. The assassin had followed Artorias, who had a mission in Oolacile, out of worry. Her message could mean that she requested help.

“Then thank your for delivering this message to me, you are dismissed.”, he said and accepted the message.

“Excuse me, I should read this right away.”, he said to the silver knights, who had stopped their exercises out of curiosity at the messenger. “Continue with your exercises, it won't take long.”

Ornstein decided to take a few steps away from the training area, so that he would be out of earshot for the silver knights and broke the seal of the envelope. He took the letter out of the envelope and started to read.

The words he registered made his knees go weak and he had an urgent need to sit down.

“Keep it together...”, he murmured to himself. Maybe this was a mistake? He didn't want to believe what he had just read. He took a second glance, just to be sure, but the message stayed the same.

Ciaran's sharp, tiny letters formed a very clear sentence: “Artorias has fallen. Please come to the Royal Garden as soon as possible.”

His first instinct was to think that this was some dumb joke, but Ciaran wasn't exactly the type for such jokes. She actually was known a lot more for her brutal honesty. This words had to be the truth. But Ornstein didn't want to believe them... Artorias...

He perfectly knew what a force the wolf knight was to be reckoned with. How could he have managed to die? What happened to him? Who had been able to strike his best friend down?

Ornstein had managed to keep himself together for a good time, but he could feel the breakdown coming. He already had started to shiver. But he couldn't break down here and now. Not in front of his silver knights. He had to keep it together. He took a few deep breathes to try and calm himself down before returning to the training session.

"Was it something serious?", one of the Silver Knights asked after they noticed his return.

Ornstein looked down on the message, then shook his head: "It's nothing important. Let us continue with the training." His voice was quivering slightly, he hoped, that nobody would notice that. For now, he had to keep it together. He was the captain of the knights, the dragon slayer, and thus wasn't allowed to show any weakness. He just had to keep it together to hold the moral of the Silver Knights high.

After the training was over, Ornstein had developed a stomach ache and a slight nausea. He would have liked to just run and lock himself in his room, but he had to take care of assigning the silver knights to their night shifts first. Luckily, this didn't take long, because the silver knights had found out a fairly good system to toggle themselves between the night and day shifts. Even though it was dinner time now, Ornstein felt like anything he would eat wouldn't stay down right now and decided to skip it for now. He could always ask for leftovers later. He made his way to his room, in a steady pace, but not running, entered it, closed the door behind him, turned the key in the lock, took a few steps in the direction of his bed and broke down next to it.

Leaning on his bed, still in full armour, he was vehemently shaking. He hated it when this happened. He felt so weak and powerless and couldn't do anything about this expect for waiting that it stopped. He wanted so much to believe that what was wrote in the message wasn't true. That tomorrow would come back and greet him with his usual warm smile, playing with his wolf puppy Sif. But he knew perfectly that this wasn't a bad dream. That was the truth, a truth he had to face, if he liked or not. Two questions crossed his mind: How and why? He still couldn't grasp his head around how Artorias of all people had manage to fall in battle. He suddenly noticed that he had started to cry. Oh no, Artorias surely didn't want that he cried about him. All of them had been aware that they could die in battle every single day.

"Keep it together.", he murmured to himself once again. "Just keep it together. Stay tall, stay proud."

It had become a mantra he always would tell himself to overcome one of his breakdowns. This one was was going on particular long, but that had to be expected. Eventually he started to calm down. After the shivering had completely stopped, Ornstein got up. He needed to see Gwyndolin, tell them about the message and ask if he could leave the town like Ciaran requested.

A short walk trough the night later Ornstein stood in front of the Dark Moon Tomb where Gwyndolin had moved to watch over their father's grave. He stepped in front of the lord's statue and presented the ring that Gwyndolin had given him so that he could enter the tomb whenever he wished. After the illusion of Gwyn's statue vanished, Ornstein entered the fog gate.

“Gwyndolin, it's me, Ornstein. Are you there?”, he called.

Gwyndolin entered the hallway, seemingly a bit surprised to see him. “Ornstein, what are you doing here at this late hour?”

“I have received a message of Ciaran and I need you to take a look at it.”, Ornstein said and handed Gwyndolin the message. They unrolled the scroll, read it and gasped.

“Oh, by my dear father and sister.”, they said. “These are terrible news. Ornstein, are you feeling alright?”

“I am fine.”, Ornstein said. _You are not fine and you know it._ Ornstein shook the voice in his head away and asked: “Ciaran has requested my presence. I wanted to ask if I could leave the town for a few days to help her out.”

“This situation must be tough for you. Are you sure you can handle this?”, Gwyndolin asked. Ornstein nodded.

“We had been aware that we could fall in battle at every given time. Now it is my duty as his captain and his friend to pay him my last respects.”, he said.

“I am fine with you sorting out whatever happened down there.”, Gwyndolin said. “Make sure to put someone in charge you can trust handle it. You should send a bird to Ciaran and tell her that you get on your own way the next day. For now it is too late to start travelling.”

“Thank you, Gwyndolin.”, Ornstein bowed to them and left the tomb. Back at the cathedral, he found some silver knights ,explained to them that he had to leave for a few days and asked them to pass the message around. He would pick out the ones in charge the next day. Then he made his way to his room to write a message for Ciaran. He took a seat at his table, pulled out ink pot and quill, unrolled a scroll and wrote:

“These are terrible news. I have told Gwyndolin and they allowed me to sort things out with you down there. I will be on my way the next day. Expect me around late afternoon.”

He signed the message, rolled the scroll in and used his lion seal on it. Now he only had to go to the crows and let one of them carry the message to Ciaran. A thing he didn't look forward to. Ornstein and birds didn't had a good relationship. Thankfully, one of the silver knights was up there to take care of the crows at the moment and saved him the task of actually picking a bird, tie the scroll to it and send it away. The crows were fast, Ornstein was sure the message would reach Ciaran before the next morning arrived.

At the way back to his room, Ornstein made a detour to look into the kitchen. His stomach still hurt, but it was unhealthy to eat nothing at all. Maybe there was some food left that would be easy for the stomach. When he popped his head in the kitchen, the servants were nearly finished with cleaning up. One of them noticed him.

“Oh, Sir Ornstein, I am afraid, you are too late, we have already put everything away.”, she said. It was quite common for him to come after dinner was long over and ask for a meal.

“I am only here to ask for some leftovers. It would be best if it would be easy for the stomach.”, he explained.

“Are you feeling sick?”, the servant asked. “We have a bit of rice porridge left. That tastes a bit bland, but it shouldn't be too rich for this late hour.” The servant vanished for a brief moment and returned with a warmed up bowl which she handed to Ornstein. “Just remember to return the used dishes the next day like usual.”

Ornstein took the bowl to his room, got rid of his armour and slowly ate the rice porridge. He didn't feel hungry at all, eating felt like it took forever. After what felt like an hour had passed, he finally managed to swallow the last spoon. Sadly, neither his stomach ache nor his nausea had vanished. Ornstein eyed his bed with the intent to go to sleep early today. After all, he had a long journey ahead of him the next day. He got up and packed a few things before changing and pulling the blankets over him, trying to get to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ornstein arrives at Oolacile.

Ornstein stared in his chamber pot, which contained the remains of what once had been rice porridge. He had been able to get a bit of sleep, but then had woken up with such an intense nausea that he barely managed to grab the pot before it all spilled it all out. Now he sat hunched before it, breathing heavily, still don't trusting his stomach, but after ten minutes had passed, he was content that at the nausea was gone now. At least something good came out of this uncomfortable experience. Sadly, his stomach ache still remained. 

With a deep sigh, Ornstein put the chamber pot beside his bed side and used the jar of water on his night stand to clean out the bad taste in his mouth. Then he crawled back into bed, laying down on his back and trying to drift back to sleep, without any success. His mind wandered to the following day. To the thought of Artorias never coming back to the cathedral. Even worse, the thought of him never being able to talk to Artorias anymore. There would be no more duels, no more patrols together, no more cookies. Ornstein shifted around in his bed and grabbed a pillow to hold on tight. They both had known that something like this could happen everyday. But... why had Artorias to be the first one of them who died? He always had been able to hold all of them together...

“Keep it together.”, Ornstein whispered in the pillows, noticing that tears had started to flow. “I am sure he has died an honourable death at last. That he will be remembered as the hero we all knew he is.” 

This thought comforted Ornstein a bit and eventually he was able to drift back into an uneasy sleep. 

The next morning Ornstein woke up with his stomach still slightly aching. He pulled the blankets back to get out of bed and nearly stepped in the chamber pot at his bed side. Right, he had puked in the night... Ornstein got dressed, put on his armour and cleaned out the chamber pot before grabbing the empty plate and making his way to the kitchen to give back the used dishes. 

“Are you feeling better? Did it upset your stomach?”, the same servant as yesterday wanted to know. 

“Everything was fine. Thanks for the meal.”, Ornstein lied and got some light food to eat as breakfast. Hopefully it would stay down this time. 

After he had eaten, he was searching for his most trusted silver knights to put them in charge while he was away. He had decided for two of them, a spear silver knight and a sword silver knight who were related to each other and whose family were serving in Gwyn's army since generations. He knew he could trust them to keep up the order in the cathedral. He was still a tiny bit worried. He hadn't followed Artorias on his mission, not only because he trusted the wolf knight to be able to handle it on his own, but also because the situation in Anor Londo wasn't good, with undead hollowing and demon sightings everywhere. It put the population at ease having at least one of Gwyn's knight around. Well, Ornstein couldn't help it, if one of them fell, he had to come to pay his respects. He would make sure to get everything done as quickly as possible and return with Ciaran. This thought felt a bit comforting to him. At least he wouldn't feel that alone with his pain. 

After Ornstein had made sure, that everything was taken care off, he shortly visited Gwyndolin in the Dark Moon Tomb and told them that he would be on his way now and which silver knights where in charge. Gwyndolin wished him a safe journey and Ornstein got on his way. 

It was late afternoon when he arrived in Oolacile. He had gotten lunch on a tavern on the way, but regretted it a bit. The rich food had upset his stomach again and made his nausea return. And it had gotten worse with each step closer to the Royal Garden, the place where he had been told he could find Ciaran. 

After asking around a bit further, Ornstein was pointed to the large circular arena. After entering, he took a glance around. It was obvious, that a battle had taken place here. There was blood on the ground and he could spot some strange black ooze as well as one of the deformed Oolacile citizens, laying dead near a wall. He also noticed a large figure hidden under a blanket. He assumed, that this was Artorias corpse. This assumption got further confirmed by Sif, Artorias wolf companion, laying besides it. Sif raised her head when she heard Ornstein's footstep and looked at him with vigilant eyes, before laying it back down, certain that Ornstein wasn't any danger. The sight of the assumed corpse made Ornstein's stomach feel even more uneasy, so he unglued his gaze from it and instead searched for Ciaran. He found her praying in front of a makeshift grave. Ornstein approached her slowly. She looked up when she heard his footsteps.

"You are here so soon?", she asked.

"I did send you a message. Haven't you received it?"

Ciaran pulled out the message he had sent to her and unfolded it: "I had trouble reading it. Couldn't make out when you wanted to come. I am sorry." 

He had completely forgotten this! His handwriting was so messy, that almost everyone had great trouble reading it properly. Strangely, Artorias had been the one who could read his handwriting with no trouble at all and a part of Ornstein had still assumed, that he would just read it for Ciaran, only that he... couldn't do it anymore. 

"I am so sorry. I forgot...", he started and then had to stop because the stomach in his pain flared up badly. 

“It was a shock for all of us, so I am not surprised that you forgot.”, Ciaran murmured and stood up, turning around. “How did you take it?”

There wasn't any point in lying to Ciaran, she knew him for hundreds of years now. He lowered his spear until it scrapped on the ground and said: “It was... a shock, honestly. I barely could believe that message and even was thinking for a fraction of a second that it must have been a bad joke.”

“You know that I would never joke about this.”, Ciaran said, crossing her arms. 

“I guess this is for Artorias?”, Ornstein asked and pointed with the tip of his spear at the grave. Ciaran nodded and stepped to the side. Ornstein got down on his knees, closed his eyes and spoke a silent prayer for his fallen comrade. Even though he didn't know who this prayer was directed at, he just hoped the right god would hear it. 

He opened his eyes after finishing the prayer and noticed that the plume of Artorias helmet had been laid down on the makeshift grave along with some white flowers, he recognized them as Artorias favourite. The sight made his stomach drop, it showed how much Ciaran had cared for him. Ornstein stood up. 

“How is Gough?”, he asked. The giant archer had retired from his duties in Anor Londo for quite some years now and decided to spent his days in Oolacile. Sadly, he got blinded by some biased townsfolk who were thinking that Gough was just a brute. 

“I think it would be easiest if we just visit him.”, Ciaran said. “It has been hard for all of us... we surely can need the comfort from each other.”

Ornstein silently followed Ciaran to the tower where Gough resided nowadays, spending pretty much all his waking hours with carving. After they entered, the giant archer moved his head in their apparent direction. Even with Gough's restricted sight, it amazed Ornstein how well Gough could perceive his surroundings. That showed even more when Gough started to speak: "Are you alright, Ornstein? You seem to be pretty shaken..." 

“Neither me nor Ciaran have said anything yet.”, he answered. 

“Footsteps, breathing, I don't need more to know who is coming along.”, Gough said. “You haven't answered my question.”

“I am just... still in shock.”, Ornstein said, once again greatly understating how he actually felt, but he really didn't want to worry them even more, not with the grief they already were carrying around. He decided to to change the subject instead: "On the way here I heard about what Artorias had achieved. They call him the Abysswalker now. Artorias always wanted such a title. He would be so happy about this. And at least, he could die the death of a hero." Ornstein had been very relieved to hear this tales, it was what Artorias deserved. So he felt a bit stumped when Ciaran and Gough exchanged this kind of look, as if they knew something he didn't.

“Alright, what do you know that I don't know?”, he demanded to know of them.

"There is something we need to tell you...", started the giant. 

"I will show it to him...", Ciaran said. “But beware, it's an ugly truth.”

Ornstein felt the pain in his stomach flare up again, but he wouldn't falter: "I don't care. Please show me the truth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orn, sweetie, stop understating how you feel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mansion is visited.

Luckily the walk to the mansion was a short one. Princess Dusk was sitting on a bench in front of it and stood up when she saw the visitors approaching. 

"Lady Ciaran, what brings you to our humble home?", she asked with a polite bow before she noticed Ornstein: "Oh, you have brought company today?" 

Ciaran nodded, stepping next to Ornstein: "Yes, this is Ornstein, captain of the knights of Gwyn, also called the dragon slayer." 

The eyes of the princess went wide: "Oh, of course I've heard of the famous dragon slayer. It's a pleasure to meet you." She gave him another bow. 

"The pleasure is mine, princess.", Ornstein returned the bow, even though feeling a bit ridiculous, being basically twice the size of both the women around him.

"I assume you are here to pay your respects to Sir Artorias? We owe him so much.", Princess Dusk said. "He saved Oolacile from being wiped off the map." 

Ornstein could feel a knot forming in his throat, not good for his queasiness. It didn't help that his stomach ache gave him a painful reminder. He just wasn't keen talking about this subject now. While he was still searching for words, Ciaran picked up the conversation: "Actually, Ornstein isn't feeling to well right now. Do you have a place where he could rest for a while?" 

Ornstein just stared at Ciaran. It was typical for her to be blunt about things, but he really would have liked for her to not make it sound like he was sick. And of course Princess Dusk now had a concerned look on her face and asked: "Oh no, are you feeling sick? I'll could get you some medicine if you want." 

Ornstein quickly shook his head: "I am just exhausted from the journey. It should be better after I got some rest."

Princess Dusk instructed one of her servants to show Ornstein to one of the guest rooms. While Ciaran and Ornstein were silently following them, Ornstein thought about if he should get Ciaran one of his infamous shin kicks for blurting out stuff without him asking if he would comfortable about it first. Ultimately, he decided against it, either he could accidentally break the leg of the small woman or what was much more likely, she simply would dodge and leave him exposed to trip. 

They had arrived at their destination and the servant handed Ornstein a key for the room. “There should be everything in here you need.”, they said. “The room also has a backdoor to the garden, which you are free to use. The outhouse is also back there. Of course I can get you a bucket if you are in need of it.”

Ornstein surely hoped that he didn't need to throw up anymore and shook his head. “Thanks, but I should be good.”, he said and entered the room. He noticed with slight satisfaction, that the furniture was big enough to house a being of his size. It already had happened to him that he had to stay at human settlements and their furniture was far too small for him, giving him some uneasy nights. 

“It is already late, we can continue talking about everything tomorrow.”, Ciaran said. “I will get back to the arena now.”

Ornstein had already been in the process of discarding his armour, but stopped at her words. “Aren't you going to stay here too for the night?”, he asked. 

“I want to keep watch...”, she said. “But don't worry, I will come here to sleep once I am tired enough. You know that I am used to stay up late. You just concentrate on getting some rest.”

Ciaran waved at him and left the room, closing the door behind her. Ornstein searched in his belongings for a night shirt to put on and laid down in the bed, he probably wouldn't want to get anything to eat anymore anyway. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breathes, trying to get the nauseous feeling away. But all it did was making his mind focusing on everything he had heard today.

When he had come here, he had been sure of two things. First, that he had to face Artorias dead body and second, that the thought of him having died as a hero was incredible comforting.

But then he had heard the truth and everyone he had taken for granted had fallen apart. Artorias mission had been a failure. He probably could be described as some kind of fallen hero, even threatening to hurt the ones who were precious to him. Ornstein wondered how Artorias had felt through all of this and if he even had been able to still feel things inside him in this state. Ornstein was sure, that his friend deeply would regret that he failed his mission. Artorias himself would probably see himself as the greatest failure and the sheer thought of the wolf knight dying with the regret of having failed everybody pained Ornstein even more. Ciaran had seen the whole fight with the Undead, but she didn't said anything about Artorias having uttering a single word. Ornstein should ask her about this the next day. And also about the whereabouts of Artorias souls. The undead probably had it. Undead tended to draw souls to them, especially when they lingered a bit longer in this world. 

Ornstein began to shiver. So soon already? This day had been long and exhausting. It didn't surprise him that his mental state couldn't hold up anymore, but he would had appreciated a break before his next breakdown happened. He grabbed the blankets, embracing himself for the feeling of dread, fear and helplessness when a knock on his door startled him and he nearly felt like his heart stopped. 

“Sir Ornstein, I was send here to ask if you would like to join us for dinner.” The voice of one of Princess Dusk's servants sounded. 

Ornstein took a deep breath, raising slightly from the bed before answering, trying to sound as calm as possible: “No, thank you. Please don't disturb me anymore.”

“As you wish.”, the voice said and Ornstein could hear footsteps moving away from the door. Ornstein flopped back into the pillow and pulled the blankets over his head. 

"Keep it together.", he whispered to himself. “What are you doing, breaking down like that? You have to stay tall and proud. For the sake of Artorias. For the sake of everyone. You are the lion knight and you have to show it."

But deep within himself, he knew that it was just a mantra, something he said to keep himself going, to put up a composure to make others believe that he would never falter. These thoughts accompanied him and his shivering, shaken form until he managed to drift to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a truth is told.

Ciaran led him back to the arena and headed into the direction of Sif who was still guarding the hidden figure. The wolf got up when the approached, wagging her tail slightly. Ciaran gave her a pet on the head and then grabbed the blanket. Ornstein braced himself for the gruesome sight, but what he actually got to see succeeded even his worst expectations. 

The corpse could obviously made out as Artorias, but his armour was corroded and parts of it seemed to have broken. He body was riddled with wounds, he could make out dried up blood on his armour and on the floor, one arm looked like it had been completely crushed. But the worst part was, Artorias was covered in that strange liquid, it reminded Ornstein of black tar. When he took a closer look, Ornstein noticed that Artorias face pretty much had become one with the tar and the rest was true for his body, it looked like he had melted away. That sight made Ornstein's stomach turn upside down for good, he staggered away until he reached the wall, opened the visor part of his helmet and puked out a large chunk of the food he had eaten today. Ornstein could heard Ciaran coming closer: "I told you, it is ugly." 

“Shit, I feel so sorry that his happened. Artorias deserved better than me having to puke at his sight.”, Ornstein said, wiping his mouth. He could feel Sif pressing against his legs, probably wanting to comfort him. Ornstein took a few steps away from the puddle and sat down, stroking Sif, who had followed him. 

"Ciaran, please tell me what happened to him.", he wanted to know.

“Alright, I tell you what I know.”, Ciaran said. “He and Sif made it bravely through the Oolacile township and I saw him enter the chasm of the Abyss, like it is called. I also saw that he readied some prism stones, probably to mark the way, but I haven't followed him actually in there. You know, that Artorias is the only one who made the covenant to be able to actually walk around there. I assume that he met the monster who was responsible for this whole mess, but well...” Ciaran sighed and looked at the corpse that she had hidden beneath the blankets again. 

“When he came back out of the chasm, he already had been in a berserk rage.”, Ciaran continued. “He was attacking everything in his sight. It was completely impossible to talk to him.” Ciaran shot a glance at Sif. “Much, much later Sif came out of the chasm too. But sadly she can't talk, so we never can get the full story of what happened down there. All I know is that he was badly injured and howling with rage. I am kinda amazed that he made it to the arena in this state. The way down there is plastered with deformed Oolacile citizens.” 

"So did he succumb to his injuries here?", Ornstein asked. “Because this place looks like a fight took place.”

Ciaran nodded: "You are correct, here in this arena, he face a challenger.”

“Wait, what? You are saying a single person has slain Artorias? Even in this state, he must have been a force to be reckoned with.”, Ornstein said.

“Well, the one who challenged him, was an Undead.”, Ciaran said. “They picked up the fight against him and like you assumed, Artorias was still able to wipe the floor with them. But this one was a particular persistent Undead... they came back again and again, until they managed to deliver the killing blow.” Ciaran paused for a little while before continuing: “I think we can actually thank them for their service to Artorias. He would have wanted this, I know it. I know that he hated being in this state. He surely had been waiting for someone to put his rage to a rest. I am just glad that it didn't had to be one of us.” 

Ciaran looked up and glanced over Ornstein, the dragon slayer perfectly knew what she wanted to say. From the three remaining knights, Ornstein was the only one who had been able to face Artorias in a direct fight. His thoughts shortly wandered to him having to face Artorias in the state Ciaran had described, but that only made his stomach ache. He tried to find another thought to hang on. 

“Hang on, Ciaran, but who did stop the spread of the Abyss if it wasn't Artorias?”

Ciaran sighed: "It was the same Undead who put him to rest. They ventured on, finishing the mission he started. The mission, that he failed..."

"But on the way here everything was telling the story as if Artorias had been the one who did it and... well, later succumbed to his injuries...”, Ornstein started to feel dizzy, this was a lot to take in. “When it was the Undead, why does nobody talk about them? With that bad of a reputation they have, they surely can need all the praise they are able to get.”

"You probably won't believe this, but this Undead was totally fine with Artorias getting the credit for all their deeds. I followed them out of their sight and overheard their talk with that mushroom lady. Have you seen her on your way here?”, Ornstein shook his head. He was sure he would have remembered something as strange as a talking mushroom. “Ah well, you probably didn't cross her when you came from Anor Londo. Well, the Undead told her that they don't want to be mentioned at all in this. Artorias should be the one who should be remembered. They said that it is like that in their time." She paused. "Maybe they came from another time." That wasn't even too farfetched, the time in Lordran was said to be strange and convoluted and sometimes you could see phantoms of people fading in and out. It seemed to be particular noticeable with folks who turned undead. 

Now, that he had heard the full tale, Ornstein's stomach pain increased to the point that it nearly felt unbearable. He came here thinking that Artorias had at least died the death of a hero and now he heard that not only he had failed his mission, he also had threatened to hurt other people in his rage and all the things he assumedly did weren't even his doing. His dizzyness intensified and he had to clasp a hand over his mouth when he felt the nausea returning. 

"You don't look too good. You are really pale, paler as usual I mean.", Ciaran said, eyeing his face intensely. “Maybe you should lay down for a bit. I know this was a lot to take in.” 

“I know that I am pretty pale already, you don't have to point it out.”, Ornstein grumbled. “But I guess I must really look sick when you think the colour vanished from my face. And I must admit, I still feel queasy.” And he also had a really bad stomach ache that didn't help at all. “So lying down a bit would probably help. Is there a place anywhere I could go? I don't plan on just lying down on the ground, I still have some standards left.”

"There is a mansion nearby where Princess Dusk resides. We can go there. I'll show you the way." Ciaran stood up and motioned for Ornstein to follow. The dragon slayer gave a last pet to Sif before standing up and following Ciaran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lately I make Ornstein puke a lot, I am sorry, Ornstein. I am sure it will get better for you... maybe...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are nightmares and a talk with the princess.

He was surrounded by darkness. No, this couldn't be just called darkness... the area he found himself in was literally pitch black. But why could he still see the shine of his golden armour then? He felt at a loss. Was there even a point walking into a direction if he didn't even knew where he was? Still contemplating his options, Ornstein suddenly noticed a familiar figure, the shine of a silver armour as bright as his own golden armour. 

“Artorias.”, he called out and started walking first, then running. “I am so glad to see you, do you know where we are?”

Artorias didn't answer, just stood there, with his back turned to Ornstein. “Artorias?”, Ornstein asked. The run to him felt like it lasted an eternity. “Is everything alright...?” He finally reached Artorias and extended a hand to touch his shoulder, but his hand didn't touch solid armour... it felt like he was touching some kind of goo. 

“Artorias, what is wrong with you?”, Ornstein shouted out. “That isn't normal, we have to get out here and get you to a healer, quick.” Artorias still didn't answer, instead, his whole frame started to drip and slowly melt until it was one with the pitch black darkness they were surrounded by. Ornstein only stood here, frozen in horror. 

The next thing he knew, was that he awoke in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his chest, wheezing and with a stomach that felt like it tried to turn around. Ornstein regretted for the fraction of a second that he hadn't took the offer on the bucket earlier and found himself in the outhouse moments later, puking out whatever food had been left in him, but it mostly felt like bile. That was when it all came back to him. 

The message, that Artorias had fallen in battle, the trip to Oolacile, that Ciaran had told him that Artorias had failed, the image of his corpse.

Yeah, that must have been it, that image had produced the nightmare. Ornstein stayed a while longer at the outhouse, not trusting his stomach. After a while, he left it and realized that it was still in the middle of the night, the moon was high up and it would be a few hours till sunrise. It would be best if he would get some more sleep. 

Ornstein returned to the bed, lying on his back. He closed his eyes, trying to not think about anything, but he could still feel the lingering nausea. He grabbed for the jar of water at the night stand and took a few sips, hoping that it would subdue the nausea. While he was lying there, waiting for his stomach to calm down, his thoughts started to spiral. 

Had there been anything he could have done to prevent the death of Artorias?

What had been his options? Ornstein had not only stayed in Anor Londo because in its current state it had been better for the silver knights and the citizens to have their captain around, but also because Artorias had explicitly stated that he could take this mission alone. In fact, Artorias was the only one who had made a covenant that enabled him to traverse the darkness and who had a sword which would hurt creature of the darkness immensely. Ornstein could have followed him to this mission, sure, but... what would have been the chances of him not getting corrupted too? He and Artorias both contained parts of the light soul in their body, they were extremely in danger to get swallowed by the dark. Artorias had taken that risk and lost. If Ornstein had followed him, he probably could have suffered the exact same fate. And thinking about not only Artorias but him too in a berserk rage, made him shudder. He doubted that anyone, not even an determined Undead would have been able to stop the force of both of them at once. 

Ornstein felt another bout of bile rising and quickly drank a bit of water to suppress it. So, going with Artorias on that mission wouldn't have done any good, but maybe he shouldn't had let Artorias go in the first place? Knowing how dangerous the abyss could be for them, he could have easily ordered him to stay in the cathedral. But he also knew two things. First, that they just couldn't let the people of Oolacile face this crisis alone and second, that Artorias surely wouldn't have accepted an order like this. He would have gone anyway, even if that meant to face Ornstein's wrath. 

No, he couldn't have done that. Ornstein took another big gulp from the jar of water, the nausea still was there and he really didn't want to throw up anymore. Was there another option he hadn't thought about yet? What if he had followed Artorias like Ciaran did? But what should he have told him? That he had a bad feeling and Artorias better shouldn't go to the very mission he had assigned to? It probably would have made him look like he had paranoia. And if he had followed Artorias and arrived when he already had been in his corrupted state? He would have been obliged to put Artorias out of his misery, meaning, he would have been obliged to kill his friend. This thought made Ornstein shiver. He turned around to lay on his side and grabbed for his usual extra pillow, only that it wasn't there. Right, he wasn't in his room in Anor Londo, that was a guest room in Princess Dusk's mansion. The shivering got stronger, he felt helpless, he felt guilty, he knew that he had another breakdown. Ornstein curled up and waited, waited for it to pass, close to tears, just wishing that someone would hold him, hating how weak he felt. “Keep it together...”, he murmured. 

After a while he managed to calm down. He made a mental note to ask for some extra pillows for the next night. He also contemplated to maybe get some of the medicine Princess Dusk had mentioned, his nausea hadn't subdued at all and he felt like he still could throw up anytime. He didn't want to wake anybody though and it would probably go away soon, so he grabbed the water once again instead and realized that it was almost empty, only a few drops remained. He drank them anyway and noticed two things. 

First, that the sun started to get up and second, that he really needed to go. With a sigh, he got up, hoping that his stomach wouldn't turn upside down. It didn't make any sense trying to hold it in, his last break had been too long ago and he had managed to drink a whole jar of water in a pretty short time. Luckily, his stomach decided to keep his contents to itself and Ornstein went to the outhouse to relieve himself. 

After he was done, he decided that it wouldn't make any sense for him trying to get some sleep anymore. He went back into the guest room to get dressed. He picked up a brush, brushed his hair until he got stuck at a particular unruly curl and just put his hair in the usual ponytail before putting on his armour minus the helmet, he intended to get some fresh air in the garden until the rest of the mansion would be awake. When he was searching for a nice place to sit down and maybe just watch the sunrise, he stumbled upon Princess Dusk, who was staring up in the sky with a melancholy expression. At the sound of his metal footsteps, she winced and jerked her head in his direction.

“Oh, it's you, Sir Ornstein. You are awake early.”, she said. 

“The same could be said about you, milady.”, Ornstein said and added in almost a whisper: “I had trouble sleeping...”

“The same could be said for me.”, Dusk whispered, hugging her legs, staring into a distance. “Ever since this incident...”

It hit Ornstein like a brick. How could he have been so insensitive? He sat down next to Dusk. “I am sorry.”, he said. He wondered if the princess faked her smile to not worry people just like he kept up his composure?

“Please don't worry.”, Dusk said. “I am safe now and we have to thank Sir Artorias for this.” She smiled at him, but Ornstein had great trouble smiling back, remembering the tale from yesterday, he felt like he was more grimacing then smiling. 

“Yes, he truly was a great hero...”, Ornstein whispered, staring at the ground. It felt so wrong, lying about this. Even though Ornstein was used about lying or withholding the truth, Artorias had always been honest and thinking about him like that just felt plain wrong. Princess Dusk didn't answer anymore and so the both sat together in silence until the sun was up high enough for the mansion to spark to life. The princess got up. 

“Sir Ornstein, would you like to join me and my maiden for breakfast? You haven't eaten anything yesterday evening and surely must be hungry.”, she asked. 

The sheer thought of eating made Ornstein's stomach twist and he had to try his best to swallow the rising bile back down. “I am sorry.”, he said. “But I think I can't stomach anything right now.” 

“Are you still feeling sick? I can get you some medicine if you like.”, Dusk asked, but Ornstein shook his head. 

“No, thank you, I am sure it will go away shortly... I just... can't eat anything right now, sorry to disappoint you.” 

“Hm, but would you maybe fine with at least drink a cup of tea with us?”, Dusk asked further. 

Ornstein considered this. “I think... that should be possible.”, he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just accept that medicine, dear ^^


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a breakfast, tea and a question.

The chair was creaking and groaning under his weight and Ornstein wished he had taken off his armour before sitting down on it. Princess Dusk had given some instructions to one of her servants before sitting down at the table, joined by three of her maidens. Ornstein stared at the food that had been placed on the table, stifling the need to gag because of the smell. Even though he had pretty much puked everything out he had ate the last two days, the sheer sight and smell of the food didn't help his nausea at all. 

It didn't take long for the servant to come back with a steaming cup of tea which they handed to Ornstein who accepted it with a muttered thanks. He stared at the content of the cup, it had some brown greenish colour and smelled pretty much like a herbal blend. He still wasn't to sure if he could stomach it though, when he heard the voice of Dusk. 

“You can safely drink it, I made sure it would be a blend that helps with an upset stomach.”, she said and smiled. 

“Thank you, that is very thoughtful.”, Ornstein replied and took a sip from the cup. It had some kind of bitterness to it, but it was nice and warm and flooded his insides with some kind of comfort. Artorias probably wouldn't have liked the bitter taste and put a lot of milk into it. The thought made Ornstein smile into his cup, but it froze when he remembered why he was here. 

Ornstein had never been the type for meaningful discussions with strangers, so he decided to sat still, concentrating on drinking the tea and just listening to the conversation. He shifted his gaze away from the food so that the visuals wouldn't nauseate him anymore. The nice soothing scent of the herbs also helped him forgetting the smell of the food. With one ear he listened to the conversation, but quickly realized that Dusk was barely talking and that her maidens were mostly whispering and giggling at each other. He was sure that his presence at the table had to be the reason for it, he was one of the famous knights of Gwyn after all and apparently he looked pretty attractive to most people. 

Ornstein looked up from his tea and met Dusk's gaze who noticed it and gave him a smile. He smiled back or at least tried to, it felt more like a grimace to him. He wondered how hard it must have been for her to just sit there and smile and pretend that everything is alright. Just like he had to sit there and pretend that he was alright, that the dragon slayer had kept it together, that the death of his friend didn't destroy him emotionally... He quickly concentrated on his tea again when he noticed that the shivering started, he couldn't need this here, not now, not in company. It was almost a relief when Dusk suddenly popped a question at him.

“Sir Ornstein, have you already decided where Sir Artorias final resting place should be?”

Ornstein swallowed his current mouthful of tea. “Um...”, he said. It had been clear for him that Artorias needed a burial, but he didn't had a clear answer to the question now. He wondered if Artorias would get a burial at the dark moon tomb. While reserved for the royal family, some outstanding silver knights had gotten graves in front of it. But it could also be possible that Artorias would get a burial near the statue that had been erected in honour of the four knights. And the they were individual statues from each and every one of them and Ornstein felt like they had a second purpose. 

“Not yet.”, he finally answered honestly. 

“We owe Sir Artorias a great deal, so it would be our honour to erect a grave for him right here in the royal garden.”, Princess Dusk smiled at him, that smile that looked so sad. It never reached her eyes. Ornstein had to avert his gaze for a moment, she reminded him too much of himself. Clutching the cup with both hands, he considered the offer. Artorias had always been a nature guy. He was sure he would have loved to have a resting place in the woods, a place he liked to spend his free time anyway. But he couldn't decided this on his own. He should consult Ciaran and Gough and ultimately they had to ask Gwyndolin. 

“This is a very generous offer, but I have to talk with the other knights and Gwy.., I mean, the dark sun, about it.”, he said. That was close, he was so used to just talk about Gwyndolin by their first name, but the general folks shouldn't know about the close relationship they had. Ornstein had been some kind of an uncle for them since the first day he met them. 

“We don't have any trouble with waiting until you have an answer.”, Dusk said. “But it would be really appreciated if you would take our offer. This is the least we can do to honour Sir Artorias.”

_Honour him for failing..._ Ornstein forced himself to a smile, pretty sure that it looked horribly fake. “I am sure he would have loved to be buried in the woods. I will get you my answer as soon as possible.” He finished the tea, thanked Dusk for her hospitality and went back to his room, where he searched for some quill and paper. He pocketed the utensils, fetched his helmet and searched the mansion for Ciaran. 

Half an hour later, he felt at a loss. He hadn't found Ciaran anywhere and it occurred to him that she hadn't been at breakfast either. A part of him had assumed that she just had slept in, it had been pretty early and for Ciaran it was usual to sleep a bit longer than the other knights. He wandered around the main room of the mansion when he noticed Dusk's maiden, who were talking and giggling with each other. He approached them as quietly as possible, not an easy task when you were wearing several pounds of metal armour, and overheard their conversation for a bit. Oh, how lovely, they were talking about him... 

“He looks really cute, right? I was expecting a much more fierce face under that helmet.”

“I heard he never married... I wonder why? Maybe they are still chances for us.”

“You are aware he is probably hundreds of years old?”

Ornstein cleared his throat to get their attention, which made the three woman flinch. 

“Oh, Sir Ornstein.”, the first of them said. “Are you in need of anything?”

He could see the blush on her cheeks, she was probably desperately hoping that he hadn't overheard their conversation. Ornstein decided to just act like he hadn't heard anything.

“I am searching for Ciaran. Hasn't she come back to the mansion?”, he asked. 

The three maidens shot each other a look. “Lady Ciaran? She came back late at night and left very early.”, the second one of them explained. “She has spent nearly every waking minute in the arena.” 

This answer made Ornstein suddenly feel bad. He hadn't even asked Ciaran how she felt. His stomach cramped a little bit, but luckily the herbal tea had managed to subdue his nausea and he felt a lot better. 

“Thank you very much. I will go seek her out.”, he said and bowed before them. 

“We are glad to help.”, the third of the maidens said. “Just ask us when there is another thing you need.”

Ornstein was already in the process of turning around and leaving, but he stopped when he heard that. “Actually, yes, could you please get an extra pillow into my room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooow, we don't ever see a statue of Artorias or the other knights in the game, but come on, we only see a teeny tiny part of Anor Londo and the cathedral so I added a bit more to it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining knights make a decision, Ornstein and Ciaran talks about feeling, a letter is send.

Ornstein found Ciaran sitting next to the make-shift grave. As he approached her, she looked up. 

“You are awake? Feeling better?”, she asked. 

“Yes and good morning.”, Ornstein answered. It was kind of the half-truth, since he had felt awful just a few hours ago, but it had managed to ease into the slight stomach ache he had started with. 

“So, why are you here?”, Ciaran asked. 

“I need to talk to you and Gough about an offer Princess Dusk made.”, Ornstein explained. “Ciaran, have you even been back to the mansion to sleep?”, he added. “You haven't been here the whole night, have you?”, worry shaded his face. 

“I have been there and got some sleep, don't worry.”, Ciaran simply said. “I just got back here early. You know that I never needed much sleep.” She stood up. “Let us go see Gough so we can talk about that offer.”

The both of them walked to Gough's tower where the giant was busy carving like usual. He greeted them both when they entered and the two knights took a seat on the ground around him. 

“So...”, Ornstein started. “Princess Dusk was asking if a burial for Artorias was already decided and when I negated that, she was offering that Oolacile could erect a grave for him here in the royal garden.” He stopped to look into the round, both the gazes of Ciaran and Gough were on him, even though Gough seemed to look a little bit too much to the left. “I personally think that Artorias would have loved it to have a grave at this place. But I can't decide this on my own. What do you think? And has any of you having his testament?”

Because the knights were painfully aware that they could die fulfilling their duties anytime, it was common practice for them to fill out and carry a last will them. 

“I have it.”, Ciaran said. “But there wasn't anything about a burial wish in it. It was mostly about his personal belongings. A lot of them are going to Sif.” 

“I should be surprised, but I aren't...”, Ornstein said. That was very typical for Artorias, he had loved this wolf above all else. Thinking about that it was still laying besides its master corpse, made his stomach sting. 

“So, what do you think, shall we lay Artorias' burial in the care of Oolacile?”

“I am in favour of it.”, Gough said, picking up another piece of wood to carve on it. “Artorias surely would like to have a resting place amidst the nature he loved so much.”

“I agree with this too.”, Ciaran said. 

“Then it is settled.”, Ornstein rummaged around and produced the writing materials he had brought earlier. “Ciaran, would you help me write a message for Gwyndolin, please?”

“One day you have to work on your handwriting.”, Ciaran said. “Artorias won't be there forever to help you.” All three knights fell into a sudden silence when they realized what she just had said. Ornstein could feel his stomach twist. 

“It wasn't... meant... like that... Shit.”, Ciaran said and hurried away from the tower. 

“I better go after her.”, he said to Gough and followed the small assassin. 

He found her praying in front of the grave again. “Ciaran, are you feeling alright?”, he asked, sitting down next to her. 

“You are the one asking me this, really? The one who has turned up here and already has been sick?” There wasn't any sarcasm in her voice, she just sounded... tired. After a good while of them just sitting there, she sighed. 

“It's just... hard to grasp. That he has been the first, you know.”, she said. 

Ornstein knew exactly what she meant. He never had thought that Artorias really would have been the first of the four knights to die. He shuddered a bit at the word, it still felt so strange thinking about this. Just a week ago they had sat together and joked around. It felt like it had been years ago now. 

“Who do you think would have been the first to die?”, he asked, part of him was curious about it, part of him just wanted to get the conversation in another direction. 

“Honestly? At first, you.”, Ciaran answered immediately. 

“Ouch, I thought you had more trust in me.”, Ornstein said, grinning under his helmet but actually feeling slightly hurt at her word. 

Ciaran sighed. “Don't take it the wrong way, that was back in the dragon war. When there was this lunatic fighting dragons completely on his own. I was seeing you getting burned to a crisp every single day. But it never happened. So, after the dragon war was over, I was thinking it would be me. There are so many things that can go wrong during an assassination and I was trained to end my own life as quickly as possible should I be detected.” She turned her head around and looked directly at Ornstein. “So, what about you?”

“Actually... I thought it would be me too.”, Ornstein admitted. 

“It just doesn't feel fair.”, Ciaran said. “We can sit here and mourn as much as we want that Artorias would still be here, that he would have outlived us, but that would mean he would be the one sitting there, mourning our deaths.”, Ciaran said. “It never mattered which one of us died first, we all lost.” 

Ornstein needed a moment to process her words. Ciaran didn't sound alright, she surely was suffering terribly. He wished he could do something or say something for her, but he knew that there was nothing he could do or say to ease her pain. Like nobody would be able to ease his pain with a few well-meaning words. He stared at the makeshift grave, then at Artorias and started to wonder about something. 

“Ciaran, what is with Artorias soul?”, he asked. They all had been granted parts of Lord Gwyn's light soul and they counted as special souls. And if an owner of such a soul would have something to regret, they normally would linger on. 

“The soul... the Undead who put him to rest got it.”, Ciaran said. Of course, Undead tended to draw souls to them. It was said that the souls tried to fill out their hollowing, but alas, they could collect myriads of soul power, no Undead so far hadn't gone hollow at some point. 

“So they still have it, I assume?”, Ornstein asked. 

“No, I have it.” Ciaran produced a shimmering light, easily to recognize as a soul, but Ornstein instantly saw what was wrong with it.

“Ciaran, this is just... wrong.”, he said. The soul was supposed to have a bright shine to it, to look pristine and clear, but it was dark and wavered around. Ornstein suddenly remembered the dream he had and shuddered. 

“I know. The corruption... it got so bad that it tainted him to his very soul. I am just glad that Undead put a stop on his berserk rage. The lords know what would have happened had he made it outside of the arena.” Ciaran hugged the soul for a brief moment before putting it away. 

“I am sorry for all this.”, she said. “Let us go write this message for Gwyndolin now.” 

The both knights returned to the tower where Gough had picked up his carving again. “You are surprisingly calm about this.”, Ornstein said while he prepared the paper he brought along. 

“Worrying won't bring me anywhere.”, the giant hummed. “I am just glad that Artorias was stopped before something worse could happen and is at peace now.”

Ornstein was fairly sure that Artorias wasn't feeling at peace or his soul wouldn't had stuck around. But there was also the possibility that undead drew souls to them regardless of their owner regretting things that happened in their lifetime. Sadly, they would never know the truth. He gave Ciaran the quill and the ink pot and dictated the letter for Gwyndolin to her. Ciaran wrote all of it down without saying a single word. When she was done, she handed the letter to Ornstein who gave it another read. Ciaran's handwriting wasn't as beautiful as Artorias, but her sharp letters could be made out much more easily than his messy handwriting. 

“Thanks, Ciaran. I will return to the mansion and send off a bird right now.”, he said. 

“If you need anything else, you will find me right here.”, Ciaran said. They said their goodbyes to Gough who raised a giant arm to wave to them in return and descended the tower in silence. Ciaran sat down next to the grave, Ornstein could see from the corner of his eyes that Sif joined her, and he made his way back to the mansion after waving goodbye to Ciaran. 

He arrived at the guest room he occupied and noticed with satisfaction that another pillow had been added to his bed and the jar of water had been replaced with a full one. He walked to the desk in the room and lit the candle on it. After he put the letter into an envelope, he had to wait a short time for the wax to melt but could finally gather enough of it to seal the letter with his lion seal. He exhausted the candle and went to find a servant to hand the letter to so that it would get on its way to Gwyndolin immediately. 

After the letter was taken care off, all Ornstein could do now was wait for the answer. He didn't feel like sitting in his room and staring at the wall, so he decided to go outside and find a way to kill some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody is feeling alright and they know it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein finds a way to kill some time.

Ornstein headed back to the arena and tried to talk to Ciaran, he mostly tried to get some information out of her how the fight went, but after a short while the woman got unresponsive and didn't reply or react to any questions of him at all. Ornstein decided to go visit Gough instead and look at his carvings, trying to interpret what he wanted to express with them, but it got obsolete when he accidentally dropped one of them and the mask clearly spelled it out for him. He threw a few other masks on the ground to hear what they would say and then dropped on the ground himself, sighing. 

“If you don't know what to do, why not try to be creative yourself?”, Gough suggested. “Maybe you want to try and carve something yourself?” 

Ornstein didn't trust himself to hold a knife and not cut his fingers at his current state, so he politely refused. “I think I am going to search for a motive to draw.”, he said to Gough and left the tower. He visited the mansion to got his supplies for drawing and went straight back to the arena, cause he decided that Gough carving was a fine first motive. The giant didn't say a single word while Ornstein drew the picture, even though the dragon slayer was sure that Gough knew he was present, the giant had an excellent sense of hearing. 

After he finished the drawing, Ornstein descended from the tower and picked Ciaran praying in front of the makeshift grave as next motive. He couldn't finish this drawing though, cause Ciaran got mad when she realized what he was doing, said that she didn't want to have a picture of that and that he at least could have asked first. Ornstein quickly left after muttering an apology and wandered aimlessly around the garden until he made it to a place known as the sanctuary garden. There, a new motive caught his eye.

The creature had parts of a lion, wings like a bird and a tail like a scorpion. Ornstein remembered hearing about it... a guardian for Oolacile, he felt like it could be called a sanctuary guardian. He kept a healthy distance to the creature though, he wasn't actually keen having to fight that thing. Because of the creature constantly roaming around, it took Ornstein a long time to finish that picture and the sun was already high in the sky when he finally was done with it. He stood up and nearly fell over, thankfully he could support himself with his spear. He first thought that his legs had fallen asleep, but then a growling of his stomach reminded him that he pretty much hadn't eaten anything today and puked everything out he had eaten recently.

Ornstein decided to return to the mansion and found Dusk sitting on the bench in front of it, staring into nothing. She raised her head when he approached. 

“Oh, Sir Ornstein.”, she said. “Have you gotten your answer already?”

Ornstein shook his head. “Not yet.”, he said. “I came here for some food. I didn't realize how long I already had been out.” He noticed that Dusk stared curiously at the drawing supplies he was still holding. 

“Are you feeling well enough to eat again then?”, Dusk asked. “The food should be ready shortly. Do you want to join us for lunch?”

Ornstein shook his head. “Sorry to reject your kind offer.”, he said. “But I was thinking about eating with the other knights. It has been pretty long since we all have been together.” 

“Oh no, don't apologize, I totally understand this.”, Dusk said and smiled at him, that sad smile that made Ornstein's stomach always sting a little. 

“You don't have to force your smile in front of me.”, he whispered, but Dusk just stared at him with a questioning look. 

“Excuse me, did you say something?”

“Oh, it was nothing.”, Ornstein said. 

Dusk stood up. “Let me lead you to the kitchen, so that you can get some food to take with you.” She walked into the mansion and Ornstein quietly followed her. 

At the kitchen, Dusk explained the situation and asked for three portions to be packed up so that he could take them with him. She turned around and popped a question at him: “Are any of you having any special eating habits? Like is there one who normally eats more? I feel like a usual serving would not be enough for our dear Gough.” 

Ornstein had to chuckle a bit at this assumption. “Although it is hard to believe, Gough doesn't even eat that much, one serving will be just right for him. It is Artorias who always would eat double portions. Sometimes he takes even thirds.” 

Only when Dusk stared at him with a very concerned look did Ornstein realize what he just had said. “Um, I mean... He … can't do this... anymore...” His stomach cramped and he knew it wasn't from the hunger. “Can I get another cup of that tea from this morning, please?”, he asked.

A short while later Ornstein had put his drawing utensils away and packed the lunch into a bag, heading for the arena with his spear in the right hand and the steaming cup of tea in his left. He was glad that the magical constructs from Oolacile didn't consider him hostile, if he would have to fight through them, he surely would have spilled the tea. Although he had heard rumours that there were still corrupted Oolacile inhabitants beyond the arena, roaming wild and being a threat for everyone near that place. He remembered having seen one of them in the arena, dead of course. It hadn't been a nice sight and because he had been puking recently, he didn't shot a second glance at it. 

When he arrived at the arena, he headed straight for Ciaran. “Hey.”, he said as a greeting. “I brought food. Mind if we eat this together with Gough?” 

Ciaran finished her current prayer and got up. “Is it noon already?”, she asked and shook her legs. “Damn, they nearly fell asleep. I am normally used to sit still for hours on ends.” 

_But probably not days on end._ Ornstein's concerns for Ciaran grew. She seemed to take Artorias death as badly as he did, but didn't seem to be interested to speak about. _As if you are any different,_ the tiny voice in his head whispered. 

“What is that tea you are carrying around?”, Ciaran asked on their way to Gough's tower. 

“It's a herbal blend Princess Dusk gave me, it helps with my nausea.”, Ornstein explained. 

“...Have you puked again?”, Ciaran asked, a sharp stare at his direction, he could feel it even through her mask.

“Um...”, Ornstein started. “Not... recently, but, um, yes?” 

“Are you sure you can stomach this?”, she asked and pointed at the bag with the food. 

“I can at least try.”, Ornstein said. “Besides I am hungry, I have skipped two meals now.” 

“You can feel hungry and still not have an appetite.”, Ciaran said. “Best leave your spear here, you can't climb the ladder with both hands occupied.”, she instructed him. “Shall I take the bag with the food?” 

“That would be helpful, yes.”, Ornstein said, handed the bag to her and watched as the small assassin swiftly climbed the ladder. He followed shortly after her, careful to not fall and spill the tea. He was pretty relieved when he made it save on top. Ciaran already had unpacked the food and handed a portion to Gough, then settling down with her own. Ornstein put the tea cup on the ground and pulled the last portion out of the bag, removing his helmet to be able to eat properly. While munching on his food he started at Gough and was once again in awe how the giant managed to eat with his helmet still on his head, the giant was too stubborn to take it off, which ultimately made him lose his sight, cause some pesky humans had decided to fill the eyeholes with resin. The thought that it had also been humans who created that mess in Oolacile made him lose whatever little appetite he had and he put his food down, sipping from the tea instead. 

He observed the other two knights. Gough seemed to have a normal appetite, but Ciaran barely had eaten anything, just like himself. He decided to try and break the silence a bit. 

“So, um, I have heard there are still some of that abyss corrupted humans roaming out there.”, he said. 

“Yes, they are.”, Ciaran said and pointed to the township which could made out from the tower. “Don't go there if you aren't prepared for a fight, there are still dozens of them. At least now that the spread of the abyss is stopped, no new ones can get corrupted.” 

“Wasn't there a dead one of them lying around in the arena? Who killed it?”, Ornstein asked. This time Gough picked up the word. 

“I could hear everything from the battle and it has been clearly Artorias who dealt the killing blow.”, he explained. “That was very clearly the sound of his great sword that pierced the flesh of this creature.”

“Wait, so Artorias fulfilled his purpose even in this state?”

“Well, maybe... but it felt more like he was attacking anything in sight.”, Ciaran said, her upper body swaying, showing that she was searching for words. “I have the feeling he had a tiny bit of himself still in him but got swallowed completely when that Undead showed up.” 

After that, nobody of them said anything anymore. Ciaran eventually went back to the makeshift grave and Gough picked back up his carvings. Ornstein collected the dishes, put them into the bag and descended from the tower. He made a stop at Sif, who was wagging her tail when she spotted him and fed her the leftovers, petting her head. Artorias corpse however made him feel uneasy and he quickly left, but paying a moment to observe the carcass of the corrupted Oolacile inhabitant. It looked pretty bad. Far too long limps, a uneven body and a very bloated head. After he had just eaten and with an already upset stomach he couldn't take this sight long and quickly left for the mansion. 

He checked the aviary only to see that their message hadn't been answered yet. Great, he had more time to kill. He got his drawing supplies and searched for a new motive to draw. He found one in the flowers in Dusk's garden, sitting on the same bench the princess had occupied earlier. After a short while of drawing though he barely could keep his eyes open. The mostly sleepless night and the warm sun beams started to take their toll on him and he dozed off. 

“...stein? Sir Ornstein?”, he heard a voice call and a hand shake him and he slowly opened his eyes to see Dusk standing in front of him. “Ah good, you are awake.”, she said. 

“Oh sorry, I must have dozed off.”, he said and stifled a yawn. 

“Sorry for waking you, I just thought it would be better for you to sleep in a bed instead on a bench in your armour. This looked awful uncomfortable. And it is surely not the best thing for your sickness.” 

“Thanks, that was very kind of you.”, Ornstein said and flashed her a tiny smile. “I will return to my room to take a nap.” 

“Shall I send someone to wake you?”, Dusk asked. 

“Only if the bird with the answer arrives.”, Ornstein said. Dusk bowed to him, that proper bow that was typical for Oolacile. He bowed in return, the formal bow known from Anor Londo and returned to his room. 

After he had discarded his armour, he laid down on the bed and it didn't took him long to drift back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answer from Gwyndolin arrives and Dusk asks a question.

Ornstein jerked up when he felt someone nudge him, gasping and shouting: “What is it? Did we have another dragon attack? Do we need to move out?”

He managed to get a glance at Ciaran, standing in front of his bed, baffled. “Ornstein, the dragon war has been hundreds of years ago? Were you dreaming?”

Ornstein flopped back into the pillows, hissing when he felt a pang in his stomach, it seemed to be back. He should get another cup of that tea. 

“Yes, I must have been dreaming...”, he murmured. 

“Anyway.”, Ciaran said. “I was searching the whole area for you until I found out you decided to take a nap in broad daylight. We have Gwyndolin's answer.” She produced an envelope and waved with it. 

Ornstein shot up again, regretting the sudden motion when a bit of nausea washed over him. He slowly and carefully moved to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. Ciaran handed him the envelope. 

“Ornstein, if you feel that sick, ask Dusk for some medicine already.”, Ciaran said. “A blind man can see that you are not feeling well.” 

“It will be fine, I just ask for another cup of that tea.”, Ornstein mumbled more to himself and looked at the envelope, seeing that it was indeed sealed with the dark moon, the symbol of Gwyndolin. He broke the seal and read the answer. 

“What does it say?”, Ciaran asked. 

“You all knew Artorias the best. I give you the authority to make the decision in my position.”, Ornstein read aloud. 

“Oh well, that felt like a waste of time.”, Ciaran annotated. “I think we all have agreed that Artorias would have loved it to be buried here. Shall we bring our decision to Princess Dusk?”

Ornstein stood up from the bed and walked over to his armour, getting it on. 

“Yes, we should tell her. Is she out in the garden again?”, he asked, already opening the door to the garden without waiting for a reply. He glanced outside and saw that it already was late noon, almost evening. “Wait, how long have I slept?”, he asked himself. 

“Depending on when you laid down, it must have been quite some time.”, Ciaran mentioned from behind. “She should be in the garden, she seems to spend most of her time there.” Ciaran swiftly walked past Ornstein, scanning the garden. Ornstein followed her and quickly spotted Dusk sitting on the same spot as the last time. He walked over and sat down next to her. The princess flinched a bit when she realized his presence. 

“Princess Dusk, we got the answer from Anor Londo.”, Ornstein said. Dusk turned her head, smiled the usual sad smile and said: “Oh, that was pretty quick. And what is your decision?” 

“We have decided that you can erect a grave for Artorias in the Royal Garden. We knights have talked about it, agreed that he would love it and the Dark Sun approves of our decision.”, Ornstein explained. 

“Well then.”, Dusk got up. “We will start preparations on the grave at once tomorrow. It should take us a day and a half until everything is ready for the ceremony.” 

“Wait, what? That is awfully quick.”; Ornstein said, bewildered. 

“Oolacile isn't called the land of golden sorceries for nothing.”, Ciaran said. Ornstein had almost forgotten that she was there too, she was awfully good in hiding her presence. 

“Lady Ciaran is right.”, Dusk said. “With the help of our magic we can greatly shorten the time of such a work.” Her face darkened a bit. “Of course we are short of workers... but we will make sure to give Artorias the nicest grave we can muster. After all, we are in a great debt and this is just a little thing how we can repay him.” 

Ornstein's stomach cramped again. No, he had to keep it together. Soon, this all would be over with. 

“It has gotten quite late.”, Dusk said, staring at the sky. “How about both of you join us for some dinner?” 

Ornstein looked at Ciaran, who only shrugged. “We gladly accept your offer.”, he said. “... Can I get another cup of that herbal tea?” 

“Of course.”, Dusk said and started to walk towards the mansion. “Although maybe you should think about taking some medicine now? Are you sure you are able to stomach something?” 

“It will be fine, it isn't that bad.”, Ornstein said and then with a raised voice cause Ciaran had let loose a sarcastically cough. “I just don't want to get it worse.” 

A short while later they all were seated on the table, Ornstein and Ciaran on one side while Dusk and her maidens occupied the other side. Ornstein had gotten the requested cup of tea and was sipping from it while they were waiting for the food. He didn't even knew that Ciaran was capable of it, but she was holding some small talk with the maidens while Dusk just sat there quietly, with that fake smile on her face. Ornstein started to wish she would stop it. It made him feel uneasy. It reminded him too much of himself. 

Luckily, the food arrived. It seemed to be chicken soup. The kind of food you would give to a sick person. Ornstein wondered if she had ordered this food on purpose while he took his sweet time eating it, trying to stomach it all this time. He could see from the corner of his eye that Ciaran barely ate anything and mostly stared at the food listless. He decided to concentrate on his own food instead, watching her made him feel far too uneasy. 

“Would one of you agree to hold a speech at the burial ceremony?”, the voice of Princess Dusk sounded. Ornstein nearly tossed his spoon in the soup and caught it just in time. He had completely forgotten about this. Of course one of them had to honour their fallen comrade like that. Before he could even say something in the matter, Ciaran took up the word. 

“I am not one for giving speeches. I will leave this to my captain instead.”, she said. 

“Ciaran, you can't just dump that on me.”, Ornstein grumbled. “But I guess I am the right one for doing it, I am the captain after all...” 

“So, you will do it? How wonderful.”, Dusk said, hands folded in front of her. 

“Yes, I will hold a speech at the ceremony.”, Ornstein said and got back to concentrating on his plate again, trying to avoid the satisfied face of the princess. 

After dinner, Ornstein retreated to his room in the mansion. Ciaran had made clear that she would go back to the arena again, because someone had to watch over Artorias. Ornstein still had the conversation with her before she left on his mind.

“You have barely eaten anything, Ciaran, I noticed.”, he said. 

“You are one to talk.”, she responded. “You can give me lectures when you manage to keep your food in.” 

“Touché...”, Ornstein whispered. “Still, I am worried, you haven't felt like yourself since I arrived here.” 

“Don't worry about me, better worry about that speech.”, Ciaran said and with that the discussion had been over. Ornstein stopped musing over it and stared at the scroll he had spread on the table, quill in hand. How should he start with that speech?

People probably would want to hear about the deeds he did and for what he died? Should he start in the beginning? That would have been the dragon war. Some fond memories of them fighting dragons together flooded his mind, but it darkened at once, thinking that he never would fight side by side with Artorias again... Shit, stuff like this really shouldn't be in the speech. He should get it together and just start writing. So he dipped the quill into ink and started writing. 

He had just finished the first three sentences when he felt the breakdown coming. He didn't want to. He had to keep it together. He clenched the quill and continued writing, furiously scribbling on the paper until his hand shook so much that he dropped the quill. Some ink drops stained the paper as Ornstein put his hand on his forehead, he felt sweat forming. “No, keep it together.”, he murmured his mantra. “Don't break down over this. You haven't even come to the lie.” That realization was too much, his stomach turned upside down and the next thing he knew was that he was in the outhouse puking out all of the soup. 

Ornstein staggered back in the room, grabbed the jar of water and cleaned out his mouth, spitting the water out in the flower fields in the garden. He returned to the table, massaging his stomach. He felt hot, really hot. Did he come down with a fever? He sat down on the table, picked up the quill and stared at the scroll. 

He had scribbled “Keeping it together” all over it. Ornstein tossed the quill aside and just let his head fall on the table, sighing loudly. 

Oh well, he had the whole day tomorrow to write the speech. He shouldn't overdo it. Ornstein decided to call it a day for now and got ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ornstein... he is so confused and this guy just needs to admit that he needs some help... And Ciaran isn't much better.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ornstein procrastinates.

Ornstein awoke the next morning with a tad of surprise that no nightmares had visited him this time. He pulled himself up in a sitting position and his gaze fell on the scroll on the table. Oh right, he had decided to write the speech today... He got up and completed his usual morning routine before sitting down on the table to take a second look at what he already had written yesterday. “Keeping it together” was scribbled all over it in his messy handwriting, even messier than usual he had to admit. A long sigh escaped him. That turned out to be a challenge. A part of him wished he would stand against a dragon on the battlefield instead, that felt easier. 

He picked up the quill but a growl of his stomach distracted him. Right, he lately hadn't eaten much and a lot of it had got right back out. He didn't really had much of an appetite or generally felt like he wanted to eat, but his body gave him clear signs and he certainly didn't want to faint from not eating. Ornstein decided to get a snack for breakfast, something he could eat with one hand so that he could focus on the speech. 

Ornstein returned to his room with some bread with a meat filling. He sat down, put the food in his left hand and picked up the quill with the right, thinking about which of Artorias deeds he should write. After he had munched away half of the bread, he still hadn't written a single word. Why had this to be so difficult? He should get it over with and just write something already. 

For what had Artorias been known? Fighting the creatures of the dark had certainly been one of his deeds. Ornstein dunked the quill into the ink and lowered it to the paper to write about the New Londo situation, when his stomach acted up. 

“Oh no, not now.”, he muttered and put the food down back on the plate, taking some deep breathes to help getting the nausea away. It didn't really work. Ornstein felt like he had to get out of there, get some space from writing this speech. He still had the whole day before him to write it. Maybe he would figure out how to write it when he would do something else. 

Ornstein remembered the drawing he had started the day prior, the one of the flowers he had been working on when he had fallen asleep. He searched his room for the drawing and his utensils and went back to the garden to finish the drawing. 

This time Dusk wasn't in the garden. Figures, she probably was busy getting everything done for the burial ceremony. Ornstein felt another pang in his stomach and hissed. He stressed out far too much about this whole situation. Who could blame him though? He had lost not only one of his best knights, but also his best friend. His first friend also to be accurate. And here he was, instead of writing the speech to honour the person he considered his best friend, doing a drawing of some flowers, perfectly knowing that he was just procrastinating. Artorias had always gotten mad at him for procrastinating the paperwork. He wondered if Artorias would scold him from whatever place his consciousness went would he see him sitting there like that.

It didn't took Ornstein long to finish the already started flower drawing. He didn't had any colours with him and sketching the pictures out was an easy task for him. Maybe he would colour the sketches after he returned to Anor Londo. When he would have time for it... after being absent for several days there would surely be lots of work awaiting him. 

Well, that should have been enough distraction. He really should try and work on this speech now. Ornstein went back into the mansion, but before he could make it to his room, he ran into one of Dusk's maiden, who noticed his drawing, was very impressed by it, promptly called the other two and before he knew it they had talked him into making a portrait of them and Ornstein felt like he couldn't refuse and was silently drawing the maidens who flawlessly kept their poses, even though he spotted at least one of them blushing and giggling a bit. After he was done with the picture and handed it to the women, noon already had started to approach. Ornstein returned to his room and saw the rest of his breakfast sitting there next to the speech he didn't wrote. He sat down on the table, picked up the bread and took a listless bite out of it. For him, it felt like the food didn't had any taste at all and he only ate to fill his stomach a bit. If it wouldn't decided to act up again... He took up the quill and scribbled a few notes, stuff about Artorias that just crossed his mind. Sighing, he laid the quill back down. This was going nowhere. Maybe it would be the right decision to ask for some help? Ornstein put on his armour and headed for the arena, he stopped shortly to look at Ciaran in front of the makeshift grave and then ascended Gough's tower. The giant stopped his carving when he heard Ornstein's footsteps. 

“You seem troubled.”, he said. 

“...Yes.”, Ornstein admitted. “Princess Dusk wants me to hold a speech about Artorias at the burial ceremony, but I feel stuck with it.”

The giant hummed, concentrating on his current carving. Ornstein flopped down on the floor waiting for an answer. 

“How did you tackle this speech?”, the giant finally asked. 

“Uh... I was thinking about telling of Artorias deeds and accomplishments.”, Ornstein said. “After all that is what people want to hear.”, he added, a bit quieter. 

“And you are unhappy with it.”, Gough said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. “But your problem is solved quite easily actually. Just think about, what would Artorias have done?”

“Huh..?”, Ornstein asked. “I shall write this speech as I would have been Artorias?”

“Kind of.”, Gough said, chuckling. “When you write this speech, try to stop being Ornstein and try being Artorias for a change.” 

“That's easier said then done...”, Ornstein said and fell silent, watching the giant whittling away. 

“Say.”, Ornstein suddenly broke the silence. “This Undead... the one that, uh, killed Artorias.” That felt so strange to say. Ornstein could feel the nausea rising from his stomach and quickly tried to swallow it. “I want to know more about them.”, he finished. 

“Oh yes, the Undead.”, Gough said, voice strangely content. “They were a determined little fellow. They would pick up the fight against Artorias again and again, no matter how many times he killed them. It was amazing to hear how they adjusted to his fighting style and slowly, but surely got the upper hand. And even after freeing Artorias from his corrupted state, they didn't stop. They even slayed Kalameet.”

Ornstein could feel his heart plummet into his leggings when Gough mentioned the black dragon. “Wait, what?”, he asked and then stood up. “Kalameet? THE Kalameet? The dragon I never was allowed to hunt after...”, Ornstein's voice trailed off and broke. “...after he burned me badly.”, he finished in a whisper. 

The memory, while decades ago, was still in his mind. The memory of a young, cocky dragon slayer, who thought he could take on the world and challenged the black dragon without waiting for any orders from his lord. Needless to say, Kalameet wiped the floor with him and Ornstein got into great trouble with Lord Gwyn. At least he had made it out alive. Badly burned, but not dead. The scar that stretched from his left shoulder down to the left side of his beck started to itch. Ornstein wriggled a bit on the floor in discomfort. 

“Yes, THE Kalameet.”, Gough said. “Although they had a little help. From me.” Another one of the giant's low chuckles filled the air. 

“What kind of help? And why?”, Ornstein asked, a brow knitted in confusion. The giant very much looked like he hadn't left that tower in ages and also, why should he help a human, even worse, an undead? 

“I owed them one for freeing Artorias from the grasp of the abyss.”, Gough said. “So I took my great bow and shot Kalameet right out of the sky for them.”

It took Ornstein a few seconds to process the words of the giant. Then he jerked up. “You SHOT Kalameet out of the sky despite not SEEING anything?”, he shouted. 

Gough let another one of his hearty chuckles loose. “I didn't shot out dragons out of the sky for a decade for nothing.”, he said. “Kalameet was often flying by my tower. I knew his acceleration, altitude and speed by heart. I could hear and sense it in the wind. It only took me one try to get the arrow through his wing.” 

“That is... impressive, Gough.”, Ornstein said. “Still.. I always wanted to slay Kalameet. It feels a bit strange that I now will never be able to do it... Say Gough, where does his corpse lay?”

Gough pointed away from his tower and Ornstein followed his finger to see a basin and a waterfall in the distance.

“I want to take a look...”, Ornstein murmured and was already descending the ladder when Gough said: “Don't forget that you have a speech to write.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, come on guys, I am sure we all have left to look at dead dragon's to avoid to do our homework or papers ^^


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein spends a moment musing over Kalameet's death. He helps out at Oolacile township. He gets some unexpected help.

On the way to the basin Ornstein got attacked by some undead dogs, which didn't pose to be a challenge for him. As if the curse of the Undead wasn't worse enough on humans, that it could afflict animals too... Although, for animals it seemed that they just turned aggressive instantly instead of slowly hollowing out how it was for humans. Must have been because they were driven by instincts alone. 

When he arrived at the basin, Ornstein stared down from the cliff. He could see the enormous corpse of the black dragon already from up there. Even though Ornstein was confident that he could just jump down there without spraining a muscle, he felt more secure taking the ladder instead. The uneasy feeling in his stomach may have been at fault. He slid down the surprisingly long ladder, the drop had looked shorter from up there, and slowly walked to the dead dragon to have a closer look at it. 

The first thing Ornstein noticed was the gaping hole in Kalameet's left wing, that must have been where Gough's arrow had hit. The dragon surely couldn't fly with that wound anymore, or at least only in short bursts. The burned ground implied that Kalameet had breathed fire from a position up above during the fight. Ornstein surrounded the dead dragon and noticed that his tail was covered in slashes. The Undead probably had tried to cut it, dragon tails could make some decent weapons, but failed and gave up on it. Most of the other injuries on the corpse were found around the leg and belly area. Figured, with how big the dragon was and how small the Undead tended to be, there hadn't been much room for them to attack. They had probably be victorious cause they had exhausted Kalameet with coming back and back again until the dragon had made a mistake and left itself wide open for them to deal the finishing blow. A big slash on Kalameet's belly insisted it at last. 

Ornstein had finished surrounding the dragon and came to a stop in front of his head. The big red eye of Kalameet, placed on his forehead, was staring right through him and Ornstein jumped back in surprise, raising his spear, ready to pick up the fight and defend himself. Only after a few minutes did the dragon slayer realize, that Kalameet was dead and couldn't hurt him anymore. What a stupid thing to be afraid of. The eye just hadn't closed when the dragon died. Still, it was hard for Ornstein to forget the pain, the disgrace and... he didn't want to admit it, but also the fear he had experienced back then when he first had tried to fight the black dragon. The memories made Ornstein's upset stomach twist, his legs felt like failing and he fell on his rear with a thud, breathing heavily, tearing his gaze away from the large red eye.

“Damnit it, keep it together...”, Ornstein murmured to himself. “Why do you react so badly at his sight...?” Ornstein never had thought that Kalameet had triggered such a trauma in him, he always wanted to go back and let the dragon pay for the ignominy he had suffered. Ornstein felt like he should be glad that his nemesis was laying dead in front of him, but he only managed to feel empty. 

Ornstein was unsure how long he stayed at the basin, but it took him a good while until his legs decided to work again and he felt secure enough to stand up and ascend the ladder. On the way back to the arena, guilt started to nag at him. He still hadn't worked on that speech and it needed to be ready tomorrow. Gough's adive was still in his ears. [i]What would Artorias do?[/i] Ornstein still didn't really knew what to do with it and decided to pay Ciaran a visit and ask for her advice too. 

As he entered the arena, he heard the sounds of weapons clanging and spells being casted. Confused, he looked around. There wasn't a fight in the arena. He saw Ciaran at the grave and approached her. 

“What is that noise?”, he asked. 

Ciaran's head rose when she heard his his voice. “Some of the Oolacile soldiers are trying to get rid of the last bloatheads.”, she answered and instantly fell silent again. Ornstein took a seat next to her and spoke a quick prayer in his mind for Artorias. 

“Ciaran, can I ask you something?”, he said. Ciaran's head rose again, she clearly seemed to be annoyed when she asked: “Yes?”

Ornstein told Ciaran about that he felt stuck with the speech and the advice Gough had given him. 

“I thought you knew Artorias better than that.”, Ciaran simply said. “If you can't figure this out, I would be very disappointed in you, captain.” 

Ouch, that hurt. Ornstein let his head droop a bit, but quickly was distracted by the fighting noises from outside the arena again. The weapon sounds were mixed with some gargled screaming and snickering. 

“I am sorry that I have bothered you.”, Ornstein said to Ciaran and retreated from her until he was close to the fighting noises. The sight before him showed a few Oolacile soldiers struggling with trying to fight the so called bloathead creatures, apparently they once had been Oolacile inhabitants who had been corrupted by the abyss. The soldiers were literally against a wall, with four of these unnatural looking creatures with far too long limbs closing the distance to them. Ornstein couldn't watch any longer, he still was a knight after all. He grabbed his spear with both hands and leapt into the group of bloatheads, impaling one of them. The other three spread out cackling maniacally, circling him. Ornstein swung his spear in a wide bow then two of them attacked at the same time tossing them from the edge into a seemingly bottomless pit. The last one seemed to consider its option for a second before charging forward and being met with a spear thrust. Ornstein pulled the spear out of the corpse and faced the soldiers.

“Need a hand?”, he asked. 

“Dragon Slayer, your help came at exactly the right moment.”, the first soldier panted. Before Ornstein could open his mouth for an answer, the second one screamed: “There comes a new batch!” Ornstein was too slow at turning around and was hit with a ball of magic, which shook him to his core. By the lords, if that was what had hit Artorias it was no wonder that the wolf knight had succumbed to corruption. Ornstein twirled around and activated the lightning power of his spear, answering the spell with releasing it right into the chest of the cackling sorcerer. While the sorcerer fell down on the ground, the other bloatheads from the group started to approach. A quick count told him that there were at least five of them. 

“Great...”, Ornstein muttered. “This could turn out to be a challenge...” 

Just as Ornstein was trying to think up a strategy for the fight, he saw the flashing of a great sword and one of the beasts howled in pain before collapsing to the floor. Ornstein froze in place.

“Artorias..?”, he murmured. “No, that can't be true...” 

The dragon slayer felt a weight pushing against his legs and heard a bark. He broke out from his rigidity only to see the attack of two of the bloatheads at once. He jerked up his spear just in time to impale one of them and hurled the corpse at the second one, making it tumble over the edge. He finally locked eyes with the creature that had come to his support. Sif... Artorias wolf puppy had finally left her master's corpse, sword between her teeth, brought she some havoc to the legs of the remaining abominations. Ornstein could feel how his face split into a grin under his helmet. He approached Sif and gave her a hearty pet. “It's good to see that you come to my aid.”, he said and then turned back to the soldiers, who were still standing at their corner, one of them shivering a bit.

“Leave the cleaning up to us.”, he shouted. He put his attention on Sif afterwards: “Are you ready to finish what Artorias started?” The determined look in Sif's eyes and her bark was all that he needed. 

The sun already had started to set when Ornstein and Sif returned from the depths of the Oolacile township, which now was littered with the corpses of the bloatheads and hopefully would turn out to be a safer place. Both of them were covered in blood. Well, at least for Ornstein he would only need to clean his armour, but Sif clearly needed a bath. 

“What do you say, Sif? Shall we travel to the basin together and clean you up?”, Ornstein asked and Sif's tail started to wag in return. 

“Then it's settled. Let's see who of us will be the first to arrive.” And with this, Ornstein started to sprint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to our Discord chat who helped me figure out how to tackle this chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein has a talk with Dusk.

While Ornstein just used a wet cloth to clean his armour from any blood or goop, Sif had been bathing completely in the water. Orstein still saw that she needed some help and helped her wash her fur out. He watched as the blood got carried away by the splashing of the waterfall. 

It was far too late now for Ornstein to be continuing being out. He had to go back to the mansion and work on the speech now. Enough distraction. He escorted Sif back to the arena or it felt more like Sif escorted him back to the arena, said his good nights to Ciaran and Gough and made his way back. 

Back at his room, he saw that everything was still like he left. Even the breakfast was still there. He picked it up, took a bite, but promptly put it down again, after having left out in the open for the whole day, the taste had drastically decreased. He sat down on the table and stared at the words he had already written. 

“What would Artorias do?”, Ornstein murmured to himself. The words on the paper felt wrong and foreign to him. As if he hadn't even been himself when he wrote it. How should he be able to get into Artorias mind when he couldn't even understand his own? Ornstein picked the quill up and tapped with it on the table, still not knowing where to go with this.

Also, Ornstein realized that he needed to go and that he was hungry. Oh well, he could take care of the first quickly and then get some food. He couldn't concentrate like this anyway. Ornstein made a quick trip to the outhouse and then got some food that he ate at his room. After he was done and laid down his silverware, there wasn't any reason for him anymore to not write that speech. He picked up the quill again, determined to finally do this, but...

Ten minutes passed where he just sat there deadpan. A deep sigh escaped his lips. He just needed to write a speech to honour Artorias. Why was this so difficult for him? He would put this quill on the parchment right now and just write it! 

Moments later Ornstein was walking back and forth through the garden in full armour, repeating “Keeping it together” to himself again and again. His stomach felt upset, he was shivering, he felt close to puking and he didn't want to, not again, not after he barely had kept any food in himself... That was when he heard the sniffling of someone. He turned his head and approached the sound to see Princess Dusk sitting there, the same spot as the last time, tears freely flowing down her face, her long hair unbraided and falling over her back, glittering in the moonshine. When she heard Ornstein's footsteps approaching, she shot around, quickly dried her tears and put on that forced smile. 

“...Oh, Sir Ornstein, my apologies, I haven't noticed you...”, she said. 

Ornstein just stared at her. “Please don't.”, he said. 

Dusk stared at him with eyes wide from confusion. “What do you mean?”, she asked. 

“That smile. It's fake. It...”, he stopped for a brief moment, taking some deep breathes, this conversation wasn't the best for his already upset stomach. “It reminds me to much of... someone.”

“I am...sorry.”, Dusk said. The tears started to well up in her eyes again. “My kingdom is in shambles. My people are dead or transformed into hideous creatures. The knight who saved me paid with his very own life.” She put her face in her hands, sobbing. “And nobody can see me cry, cause I am their princess and someone has to stay strong. For them!” She took some deep breathes, sniffling: “And there is no one who can understand how this feels.”

Ornstein sat down next to her: “Princess, let me tell you a story.”, he said. “Once there had been a boy who wanted to become a knight. And he did it, he was known as one of the strongest, brave knights and got handed a specialized armour. Whenever he wore that armour, he was the symbol of the people. They knew they could rely on him, they knew he would be there for them, they knew he would shine for them if hope was low. But they didn't knew, that below this armour, the boy just wanted to cry, to break down, to seek comfort at someone for all the terrible things that happened to him, but he wasn't allowed to. The symbol couldn't falter. He just had to... keep it together...”

Ornstein fell silent, feeling the gaze of Princess Dusk at him. At least she seemed to have stopped crying, he couldn't hear her sobs anymore. She gasped in realization: “The boy in the story...it is you.”

“Yes...”, Ornstein said. “So, um, you are not alone with this feeling, Princess.”

“Thank you... this actually makes me feel a little bit better.”, Dusk said. There wasn't a smile on her face anymore. “It makes me feel... less alone.” They both set next to each other in silence when Princess Dusk suddenly asked: “Can I tell you something?” 

“I will listen to you.”, Ornstein simply answered. 

“When I was in the abyss, snatched by that best... my faculties were far from lucid but I quite clearly sensed certain emotions.”, the princess started. “A wrenching nostalgia, a lost joy, an object of obsession and a sincere hope to reclaim it... Could these thoughts belong to the beast from the abyss, I wonder?” 

“Are you trying to tell me that the beast that killed my friend has just been some misunderstood being?”, Ornstein said. “It shows your empathy, princess, for being able to try to see beyond this but for me, that thing killed my friend and almost wiped a whole city off the ground. I don't need anymore reason to be glad over its death.” 

“Of course. I am sorry to having bothered you with this.”, Dusk said. “The blame is to put on Oolacile, if we had never awakened it, none of this would have been happened. I know it isn't enough, but I only can owe my sincerest apologies to you.” The tears started to well up in Dusk's eyes again. 

Ornstein waited a few more minutes, but the princess had felt silent and eventually he got up and returned to his room, staring at the parchment which still had no useable speech on it. It was already so late and Ornstein had to groan only thinking about sitting down at this table another time. He decided to get more comfortable, stripped out of his armour, put some more comfortable clothes on and went into his bed, using a book to support the parchment, writing utensils moved to his night stand. Now he just needed to write that thing. 

When Ornstein awoke his face had crumpled the parchment and bright line was shining into the room through the windows. He blinked, one time, two times, then jerked up. It was morning already! Oh no, that was bad, really bad. He uncrumpled the parchment to see how far he had come with the speech before he had fallen asleep to see that he didn't add a single word. He got up and sat down on the desk. He needed to write this speech now!

Moments later the dragon slayer was in the outhouse puking out all what was leftover from his dinner. It was no use. How should he finish to write this speech or attend the burial in that state? He needed to take some medicine now.

After asking around a bit Ornstein found Princess Dusk deeper in the forest, where she was overseeing the work on the grave. They were already pretty far, what was to be expected, the ceremony was set for this afternoon after all. The gravestone had already been finished constructed and was in the process of being erected and Ornstein could see some golems with shovels which probably were there to dig out the actual grave. He approched Dusk carefully and cleared his throat to get her attention. 

“Oh, Sir Ornstein.”, she said after noticing him. “Have you come to get an overview over the grave for Sir Artorias?” 

He shook his head. “No, that isn't it... it is lovely though, I am sure Artorias will like it.”, he said. “Actually, I have come here to ask you for that medicine you have offered me.” 

“Of course.”, Dusk said. “I am glad you are finally asking for it. It must be awfully difficult to be sick on top of all of this. Would you please follow me?”

While following Dusk, Ornstein noticed, that Dusk, while keeping a friendly and polite tone, hadn't smiled once to him. It made him smile under his helmet unconsciously. She remembered that it had made him feel uncomfortable. Dusk led him to the area he remembered from a few days ago, near the sanctuary guardian. They stopped in front of a wall where some giant mushroom grew and Dusk said: “May I introduce you to my godmother? This is Elizabeth.”

That was when Ornstein realized that his mushroom actually had eyes. Elizabeth must have been the weirdest being Ornstein had ever seen. She was literally a giant, talking mushroom growing out of the wall. “How...nice to meet you.”, Ornstein said. 

“My, my, Dusk, you have brought some famous company with you.”, Elizabeth said. 

“Actually, Elizabeth, I am here to ask for your help.”, Dusk said, smiling, and this time it was a genuine smile. She must have felt mostly secure around Elizabeth.

While Dusk talked to her, Ornstein's thoughts wandered to how she procreated, how her offspring would look like and how much Artorias would have loved to see little mushroom kids running around, so he didn't notice when the conversation was directed at him and he had to apologize: "I am so sorry, I didn't listen. Could you repeat that?" 

"I was asking which are your afflictions.", Elizabeth said in her calm voice. 

"Since a few days I am having nauseating stomach aches.", Ornstein answered. 

"Nauseating. Did you need to vomit?", the mushroom lady inquired. 

Ornstein first looked down on the ground, pawing it with his foot a bit before raising his head again and answering: "Yes. Quite a few times..." 

"I see. Please wait a moment." A short while later Elizabeth handed him an item with a squishy texture that looked like it came straight out of her body. 

He stared at it for a while: "I don't know how to feel about this..." Eating something that could very well be a part of Elizabeth's body felt so weird. 

"Don't worry, it is absolute safe to eat. And it doesn't affect me badly at all. And you don't need to feel bad about your reaction, I am a mushroom after all.", Elizabeth ended the sentence with a chuckle. 

"I am really sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just...", the absurdity of this situation. Ornstein didn't finish the sentence. He heard Dusk chuckle beside him.

“Oh, I know, it can be really off putting the first time, but believe me, Elizabeth's mushrooms are working every time. I assure you. I have taken them myself quite a few times already.”, she reassured him. 

After hearing this words, Ornstein did open the visor part of his helmet to eat the mushroom he had been handed. It didn't even taste bad or weird, it actually was quite tasty. And soon after eating the medicine the pain started to dissolve and the nausea instantly got better. "That is amazing.", Ornstein exclaimed. He had never had seen a medicine that worked so quickly. Even Gwyndolin's medicine would take a while to take effect and they often would have some heavy side effects.

"I am quite a good healer.", Elizabeth said. "You can always come back should you need some more. Although they are very much part of my body. I can't make them infinitely without needing to rest." 

"I owe you my thanks. This should suffice.", Ornstein bowed before the mushroom. "I can now continue with my work." He and Princess Dusk bid their goodbyes to her and walked back to the mansion together.

“I am sorry that I have interrupted your work, Princess.”, Ornstein said.

“Don't worry about it, Sir Ornstein.”, Dusk said. “I am just glad that you finally came and asked for help. You don't have to endure it alone when you are feeling sick... I am looking forward to hear your speech at the burial later.”

“The speech, yes..”, Ornstein said. They had arrived at the mansion and Ornstein bid his goodbye to Dusk who returned to oversee the ceremonial preparations. 

Ornstein sat down at the desk again and stared at the parchment and the words he had scribbled on it already. The speech he was so unsatisfied with. He was letting Gough's and Ciaran's word wandering through his mind. “What would Artorias do?” and “I thought you knew Artorias better than that.” So.. what would have Artorias done? If he would have been still around? Probably having hold Ornstein's hair when he puked... Oh... Oooh, that is what they meant. He took up the quill and started to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used some of Dusk's canon dialogue in this chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a burial is attended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apology for the long wait, I was concentrating on finishing one of my other WIPs first, so that this one got onto the backburner. I don't think I will put it at a set schedule, I will just post chapters whenever I have them ready.
> 
> Also, this chapter was pretty difficult to write, the whole story is actually. Dealing with loss is a tough life experience...

Ornstein just had finished reading over the speech one last time when he heard the knock on the door.  


“Come in, it is open.”, he said and Ciaran walked into his room, simply saying: “It's time.”  
  
Ornstein looked out the window to see how high up the sun already was. “Already? I haven't even noticed how the time ran...” He grabbed for his right gauntlet and his helmet and put both of them on, then neatly furled the speech and grabbed for his spear. He was about to walk through the door where Ciaran was waiting for him, when he felt the pain in his stomach. _Ugh, not again, don't let it be back, keep it together._ , he thought and got snapped out of his thoughts by Ciaran.

“We really should get moving, Ornstein.”, she said. “We need to get Gough too. He agreed to leave his tower for once to attend the funeral.”

“I am sorry, Ciaran, I just was lost in thoughts.”, Ornstein said. “Has Artorias already been brought to the grave?”

“Yes and I can tell you, it was hard work to keep Sif from tearing the soldiers apart who were brought to get him.”, Ciaran said, her footsteps so silent they barely could be heard in contrast to the clank of Ornstein's metal boots. “But I managed to calm her down and she is waiting with Gough now.”

“I wonder what Sif will do once this is all over?”, Ornstein murmured, more to himself. The young wolf hadn't left Artorias dead body in days (much like Ciaran) and he couldn't imagine her coming back to the cathedral, when her master wasn't even there anymore.

The both knights arrived at the arena and Ciaran made a beeline for Gough's tower, Ornstein following her quietly, laying a hand on his stomach, even though it was of no use with several pounds of metal armour between his hand and skin. They climbed the tower without saying a word to each other and when Ornstein finished ascending the ladder, he saw Sif sitting there, staring at him with vigilant eyes. Ciaran approached Gough.

“It is time.”, she said and the giant laid his current carving down.

“Let's go.”, he just said.

Ornstein led the small group, his foot steps were the most prominent to hear for the giant. He couldn't see anymore, but his hearing was astounding and he only needed a clear sound to know where he needed to turn. Ciaran made sure to warn him about any obstacles that the giant could tear down during his walk.

The closer they got to the grave, the more tight Ornstein's throat felt. He could feel how Sif, who was walking at his feet, would press herself against his legs, he could feel it even through his armour. It comforted him a tiny bit. He really did had enough time to prepare for this moment, but going there, bury Artorias, putting him to rest, felt so... final. He subconsciously clutched both his hands and the rustling of the parchment made him snap out of it. Damnit, he needed to keep it together. He had to hold a speech, honour his fallen comrade and friend and represent Anor Londo in the best way possible. He started to take some deep breathes, concentrating on his feet, putting one step in front of the other, until they arrived at the burial grounds.

Ornstein unlocked his gaze from the ground and took a look around. The massive gravestone was the first thing he saw. There was a massive hole dug out in front of him and he could spend a closed casket in which Artorias probably had been laid. The right decision in Ornstein's opinion, his sight had been too gruesome. A bit away from the hole there had been several chairs placed and in front of them was a desk, where Dusk already stood, the sword of Artorias was leaned against it. The chairs were occupied with the remaining Oolacile citizens, he could see some of the soldiers and Dusk's maidens, all dressed in the proper black. Even though as a knight and captain it was expected from Ornstein to wear his armour, he felt a bit weird to shine so bright in this sea of dark. He noticed that he started shivering. _Oh no, not here, not now, keep it together._ He could feel a giant hand laying on his shoulder and he winced in surprise, but then relaxed, murmuring “Thanks Gough.”

The three knights took their place behind the row of chairs, each of them standing tall, like they always had. Sif laid down at their feet. Ornstein put his attention on Dusk, who had observed them and started to talk once she noticed that they all had settled.

“We have gathered here today to honour the great Sir Artorias, the Abysswalker, and to bid our final farewells.”, Dusk started, her words loud and clear. “Like you probably all know, Sir Artorias saved us from a great threat and also saved my very own life. But for anyone not in the clear, let me tell you the story of his heroic sacrifice...”

Ornstein zoned out when he heard that bit. He didn't need to hear the lies another time. And zoning out actually helped him to calm down a bit. He only managed to break out of it though when Ciaran was giving him a nudge. “Your turn.”, she whispered and Ornstein looked around confusedly when he saw Dusk's gaze on him and instantly knew that he had missed his cue to take up the word.

“Shit.”, he cursed under his breath, clutched the speech and made his way to the desk.

“Sir Ornstein, may I give the word to you?”, Dusk asked and Ornstein stepped at her place, laying down his spear next to Artorias sword, unfurling the speech.

“When I wrote this speech, I first was thinking about telling you about all the heroic deeds Artorias had done as a knight.”, he started off. “But I am sure you all already know about this. Instead, I want to talk about some other heroic deeds Artorias has fulfilled, the heroic deeds he did as a friend.”

He took a deep breath and took a glance at his notes. “When I first met Artorias, he was only a voice through a closed door in the silver knights quarters, I did had a bad cold and told him to just leave me alone, but he insisted to help me out, even though he didn't even knew my name.”

“He gave me cookies for a week, can you imagine...”

“And he sacrificed sleep just to give me an appropriate gift...”

“He stayed with me the whole night when I had terrible food poisoning...”

“...and then he carried me back to the cathedral after I had this accident, even being discrete enough to make sure that nobody would see it...”

“And now, just like the taste of the cookies he made, all what is left are memories... We will never eat his cookies again, like we never will see our dear friend again... All we can do is guide him at his last journey...”

With this words, Ornstein finished his speech and left the desk without waiting for any reaction, realizing that some tears had stained his face, tears that gladly were invisible under his helmet. He walked back to Ciaran, Gough and Sif, each step feeling like walking over clouds. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear that Princess Dusk had took up the word again, but he simply took his place next to Ciaran, the shivering getting stronger, making his armour clatter.

“Keep it together.”, he whispered to himself. He could feel how Gough's giant hand was laid on his shoulder and Ciaran whispered to him: “You did well.”

“So now let us return this body and soul to the flames.”, Dusk said and Ornstein braced himself. As the captain, this was his duty. He nudged at Ciaran: “Did you bring the soul?” The small woman simply pulled it out from seemingly nowhere, stared at it for some time and then handed it to Ornstein without uttering a single word. Ornstein took it, stared at it too, at this swirling mass of darkness, that didn't remind him of Artorias at all anymore. He quickly averted his gaze from it when he felt the now familiar nausea coming back. He started walking again, one step at a time, concentrating on the golems that heaved Artorias casket of the ground and gently lowered it in the hole.

It had been Artorias wish that his soul would be buried with his body, should it linger on in this world. Ornstein was glad that the Undead had decided to do the right thing and give it to Ciaran instead popping it or making it in a weapon. For a brief moment, Ornstein wondered in what kind of weapon Artorias' soul would have transformed... in this twisted and wrong state, it was impossible that it would have been turned out to be the majestic great sword the wolf knight had been so famous for... His thoughts got interrupted by him arriving at the hole, where Dusk already waited.

She looked at him with a glance that felt like she was asking if he was alright and Ornstein simply nodded at her, turning to the grave, staring one last time at the soul before letting go and watching how it floated to land on top of the casket. The golems started to grab shovels, slowly filling the hole with earth while Ornstein took in the usual prayer stance of Lordran, murmuring: “May the flames guide this soul to their journey to Nito, may he watch over them and may they one day return to the flames where we came from.”

He heard collective murmuring behind him, the people attending the burial repeating the prayer. He watched as the hole got filled up completely and when the golems left, only one last thing was to do. He went to get the sword of Artorias as long as a tiny box.

“Sif.”, Ornstein said and the wolf came trotting to the front slowly, sitting before him, her eyes watching his every movement.

“Artorias wanted you to have his sword and his two rings, the wolf ring he got for his duty as knight of Gwyn and the Covenant of Artorias, which enabled him to walk the abyss to face its dangers.” He presented the box to Sif, who slowly did take it into her mouth. “For the sword, you are still too small to wield it yourself.”, Ornstein continued. He turned away from Sif, grabbed the sword with both of his hands and slammed it into the earth. “So would you watch over it and his grave until you are old enough to wield it and move on on your own?”

It felt like the best thing for Sif honestly. She had been so close to Artorias, she wouldn't be happy if he brought her back to the cathedral with him, where she didn't had a real task. Sif placed the box with the rings next to the sword and then threw back her head and howled. It was a long, painful sound and Ornstein could barely stand hearing it, it felt like it would pierce through his entire being. After Sif had finished her final farewell, she laid down on the grave, giving Ornstein one last glance, as if she wanted to say, that he could count on her.

Ornstein stayed at the grave while he heard Dusk talk to the attendants of the ceremony and he could hear the noises of departure. Ciaran and Gough joined him and Sif, neither of them saying a word, they all knew what the other was feeling. Ornstein felt the tears flowing freely down his face now, grateful for the mask he was wearing, cause nobody was to see the dragon slayer cry like this. Ciaran next to him clutched his arm and Gough once again gently laid his giant hand on his shoulders, as they all said their silent goodbyes to their fallen companion.

How long they stayed like this, Ornstein didn't know, but eventually Ciaran did release him and Gough murmured: “We should get going.” Ornstein snapped out of his trance and a wave of terrible nausea washed over him almost instantly. He managed to topple to the side and open up his helmet just in time for his food forcing out its way once again. He stayed there for a few more moments, unsure if it was all over, breathing heavily, shivering, feeling like a breakdown had wanted to come, but missed its cue. He wiped his mouth. “Shit, I am sorry for this, Artorias.”, he said, feeling extremely guilty for having to puke at his friend's burial ceremony.

“Sir Ornstein, are you feeling alright? Do you want some more medicine?”, Dusk suddenly had appeared at his side. Or had she stood there all this time already? Ornstein wanted to shook his head, but it made him feel even more fuzzy, so instead he said: “No, I am fine.”

“Will you go back to Anor Londo now?”, Dusk asked. Ornstein raised his head and stared at the sun, which would set soon.

“It is too late for now.”, he answered. “I sincerely thank you for your hospitality so far, Princess Dusk. May we stay another night before returning to our home town?”

“Of course.”, Dusk said. “Do you want to go back to the mansion with me?”

“No.”, Ornstein said. “I want to stay here for a little while longer.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein makes a trek into the chasm of the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to modounbubble, cause she pretty much inspired me to the entirety of it. Thank you, dear ^^

The forest around the grave felt calm and still. Well, it only felt like this because the attendants of the ceremony had left. Now only Ornstein, Sif, Ciaran and Gough were still there. Ornstein took some deep breathes, absorbing the sounds of the nature around him. The singing of the birds, the chirping and buzzing of the bugs, the rustling of small rodents in the bushes, the sound of rushing water from the nearby river, Sif's huffs. Yes, Artorias would have loved it here. Ornstein could vividly imagine how the wolf knight would have laid down on the grass, staring at the sky, petting Sif, being at peace with himself and the world. 

_Why couldn't he die with this peace?_ Ornstein asked himself. They had done everything to honour their fallen friend, now it was time for them to return to Anor Londo. Without Artorias. A thought that scared Ornstein. As yet Artorias had always returned from his solo missions (well, not completely solo, he usually had Sif with him), now Ornstein had to return without him. Explaining what happened. At least there weren't any relatives left of Artorias. As a bearer of a shard of the light soul, Artorias had grown much older than his parents and he had been their only son. And Artorias never had left any children, at least no one he knew about. That at least spared Ornstein the task of having to tell his family about his death. He had a feeling, that it would have broken him. 

Ornstein noticed that he had subconsciously laid on his back, knees bent, staring at the sky like he had imagined Artorias would do it. He slowly pulled himself up, taking a look around. The sun hadn't been setting yet, it would still be bright for a few hours more. Ciaran was sitting next to Sif, her hands buried in the fur of the animal. Gough hadn't moved from his spot and Ornstein strolled over to him. 

“Gough, should I led you back to your tower?”, he asked. 

“Hmm... I think I have been here long enough.”, Gough said, standing up. “Lead the way, captain.”

“Right now I don't feel like a captain.”, Ornstein murmured, going ahead, making sure that his footsteps would be heard clearly. “A captain wouldn't have let one of his subjects die like this.”

“It was Artorias own free will to come here, Ornstein.”, Gough said. “He knew that there was a possibility he wouldn't make it. We all knew this before every mission we took, before every battle we fought. We are knights. We are not meant to survive.”

“And yet, we did.”, Ornstein said. “Against all odds, we did survive. I know I should be happy about it.” He stopped, taking a deep breath, feeling close to tears. “Then why is it so damn painful?”

“Because you miss him.”, Gough said. The rest of the way the two knights travelled in silence. 

When they had reached the tower, Gough sat down, immediately picking up one of his carvings. Ornstein decided to sit down next to him for a bit longer. 

“You know, Gough, I think I considered Artorias my best friend.”, he said. “He had been always there for me, always did had an open ear, he was just always so nice. And I wonder if I did him justice as a friend.”

Gough hummed at his words. “Ornstein, Artorias considered you as a good friend as you did consider himself. We all know that you showed your affection differently than Artorias. But you also opened up a lot more to us when we were alone. But, there is one thing I have to tell you...”

Ornstein froze. That did sound bothersome. Did Artorias hide some secret from him?

“Before Artorias went to face the beast, he came to my tower to talk to me.”, Gough continued his story. “And he said he was worried about you. But every time he asked, you blocked off. Said that everything was alright. That he shouldn't worry. But Artorias said to me, he just knew that something was wrong. That you hid something from him.”

Ornstein stood up, nearly screaming: “What? I have never hid anything from Artorias. I always told him the truth. About every...” Ornstein stopped his outburst. “....oh no, there was a thing I haven't told him. None of you. I couldn't. I am still your captain, knowing it would have made me appear weak.” He clasped his hands above his head, shivering, his armour rattling. “Did he pick up on this so easily...?” 

“Ornstein, it is alright to feel weak once in a while.”, Gough said. “You don't have to face this alone. Nobody of us has. Artorias wanted to tell you this once he returned from his mission. He didn't want to let you face these hardships alone anymore. Now, let me take up his mantle. Ornstein, promise me, to come here when you feel weak or when it gets too much. I may not be an active knight of Gwyn anymore, but I still care deeply about you. You don't have to face this alone.”

Ornstein took a few deep breathes. He felt horrible. More horrible as before, he hadn't been himself this last few days anyway. Or maybe this person had been who he was this whole time and it was the other Ornstein that had been a fake persona. But how could he have thought that Artorias hid secrets from him when it was the other way round? Ornstein slowly walked over to the piles of mask. 

“Do you have one which apologizes?”, he asked the giant. Gough put his big hand into the pile, carefully tracing the lines of them until he grabbed one of them and handed it to Ornstein. 

“Thanks.”, Ornstein said. The sun still hadn't set and Ornstein didn't want to get back to the mansion now. What even would become of Oolacile? The township laid in ruins, it seemed like Dusk's mansion was one of the only buildings that was still standing. There probably had been a place for the survivor's, they hadn't resided at the mansion. He should ask Gwyndolin to send them some supplies once he was back to Anor Londo. Ornstein walked to the edge of the tower, looking over the remains of Oolacile. There was one more thing here he wanted to do. Feel like he had to do. He took another deep breath, detached himself from the view, picked up his spear, raised a hand to wave to Gough, remembered that the giant couldn't see and said: “Farewell, Gough. I promise I will come back regularly to visit you and Artorias and Sif.” Gough just raised his big hand and waved to him without saying another word while Ornstein descended the tower. 

Moments later Ornstein was striding down the Oolacile township. The last time he had been here, Sif and him had gotten rid of a majority of the transformed bloathead monstrosities. They had however stopped at a chained prisoner, an attempt to get hollows to be fighters, but it had failed pretty bad. These creatures were pretty much unstoppable forces that would come back to life again and again. Thankfully, there didn't exist much of them. 

Ornstein didn't want to bother with such a strong foe right now, so he just dashed past them and hit the elevator behind them, watching them strolling back to their usual position while the dragon slayer was vanishing into the dark. 

Having arrived at the bottom of the cavern, the first thing Ornstein spotted was a bonfire. A lit one of course, the Undead had been there and for some strange reason, Undead were able to kindle any bonfire, that wasn't watched over by a fire keeper. He allowed himself a short breather next to the bonfire, scanning his surroundings. He wasn't able to see anything, but he could hear them. In this chasm, there were some bloatheads left. He clutched his spear in both hands tightly, feeling the spark of its lightning powers in his fingertips. It was time to clear them out for good. 

Ornstein started to walk towards the noises, eyes on the ground, trying to focus on the sounds alone and that was when he noticed the prism stones. “Artorias? Have you marked the way?”, Ornstein whispered to himself and quickly threw his spear up in a defensive stance when the first foe struck, claws clanking against the metal of the shaft, the malformed thing howling in surprise. Ornstein thrusted his spear forwards, impaling the creature with ease and managed to dodge to the side just in time when he heard the humming of the abyssal spell thrown at him. The mad cackling revealed where the sorcerer was. He dashed forwards, jumped up the cliff and drove the spear deep into the sorcerer's chest. They collapsed with a last mad cackle when he spotted the next three attackers from the corner of his eye. With a wide swing of his spear the beasts were thrown into the air and landed on each other with a hefty thud. One of them got up, growling, when Ornstein charged the lightning powers of his spear and drove the enhanced weapon through all three of them at once. Ornstein twirled around after having pulled his spear out, searching for any new foes, but he couldn't see anyone anymore. He allowed himself to relax, loosely took the spear in his right hand and continued to follow the trail of prism stones. 

He was attacked by two more bloatheads when he ventured deeper into the chasm, but they were no match for him at all and he quickly disposed of them. He stopped however, when he saw the strange floating black things deeper in the cavern. 

What was that? He never had seen something like this before. Ornstein came a bit closer, spear ready when one of these things pretty much flew through him! He gasped in surprise and slight pain. That had felt... weird. Like something tried to nudge at his soul... Feeling uneasy about it, Ornstein experimentally poked that strange floaty thing with his spear and was satisfied when it dissolved into nothingness. The rest of these black things seemed to be eager to pass him too, so Ornstein didn't hesitate to give every single one of them a taste of his spear. After a while of stabbing and dissolving, noticing that this things seemed to left behind what was called humanity, Ornstein managed to arrive at the end of the chasm. 

He kneeled down to take a better look just how far deep the drop would be. He was confident that he could make the drop uninjured, he was really good at fall control, but he needed to make sure to be able to get back out there also. Ornstein quickly searched his belongings and found the desired item. A homeward bone. This thing had some kind of strange connection to bonfires and would bring the holder back to the last one touched, if concentrated on it. Even though bonfires were mostly an Undead thing, Ornstein had found out that divines also were able to use them as waypoint, even though they weren't healing their wounds, simply touching them would suffice. The last bonfire he had touched had been the in the township. Would also save him a good distance to walk. Now that he had everything set up, Ornstein braced himself and jumped down the hole. 

The fall felt like a small eternity, but eventually the dragon slayer landed on ground, surprised that he almost felt no impact at all, as if this place had awaited him. He started to shiver instantly, this scene felt like it was brimming with darkness, it was no wonder that Artorias hadn't come out unscathed. He took a look around, searching for the source of the uneasy feeling. The cave looked surprisingly normal, there were some rocks scattered around and there, in the corner, he spotted them. A myriad of glowing red eyes. The shivering increased.

“Keep it together, it is dead, the beast has been slain.”, he told himself, trying to set one foot in front of the another, every step felt like his boots were filled with bricks. After what felt like several minutes of walking, Ornstein could see it. “So you have been the beast that Artorias corrupted.”, he said, a sad and bitter tone in his voice. He honestly had expected the beast to look much more malformed. What he was seeing, was indeed a beast, large, with black fur, horns with glowing red eyes, a tail and a far too large left hand. Multiple wounds covered the body of the beast. But most importantly, what Ornstein still could feel, the absolute darkness emitting from the corpse. His shivering increased and he fell down on his knees.

“Oh, Artorias, what have I done? Why did I send you to fight a beast that carried the abyss in itself? Why didn't I see it coming that you wouldn't be able to take it?”, he said, falling down on the side, taking in a fetus position, shivering like crazy, feeling like he was suffocating, like his guilt was washing over him like a body of deep, dark water. 

“Keep it together, together, together...”, he murmured, although knowing it was too late, the breakdown had taken him down already. He only could wait now. Like he did every time. Alone. And scared. Wishing for somebody to hold him. And at the same time didn't, cause nobody should see him in that state. 

After a good while, his shivering stopped and his throat didn't feel as tight anymore. Ornstein slowly got up, taking another look at the beast, sighing. 

“Even when I had forbidden you to go, you would have gone anyway, right, Artorias?”, he murmured. “You would have never let down these people... I just wish... I wish I had gone with you. Maybe then everything would have changed...” 

“How peculiar. Wouldn't have expected you here, dragon slayer.”

Ornstein shot around at the voice, a dark deep voice of a woman, sounding kinda snarly, having startled him so much that his heart felt that it skipped a beat. He spotted the source of the voice in the image of a big cat. Ugh, he wasn't fond of cats. They always hissed at him and just didn't seem to like his presence at all and he gave it right back to them. That cat however, was more than an ordinary house cat. It was large, with yellowish fur and a row of teeth that spread from one side of the mouth to the other. Ornstein recognized this cat. 

“You are one of Artorias' friends.”, he said. “Alvina, I think. What are you doing here?” 

The cat chuckled. “Yes, indeed I am. I doesn't matter what I am doing here however, the question is, what are you doing here?”, she said. 

“I needed to come here, to see with my own eyes what has slain Artorias.”, Ornstein said, hands fidgeting with his ponytail. 

“Oh, but you know the beast hasn't slain Artorias.”, Alvina casually said. “It was a warrior from a far away time, being sucked into this one. The legend of the abyss walker, tis but a fairy tale.” Another chuckle. 

Ornstein stared at Alvina. “You know... have you seen it? Everything? Please, tell me, what happened!”, he demanded, nearly shouted at the cat. 

“I must disappoint you, I haven't seen everything. I helped this Undead a bit out to find Artorias young companion, the wolf. She had been in great trouble. Artorias had managed to erect a barrier for her by sacrificing his great shield, but the Undead has been the one to save Sif out of this mess.”, Alvina told. “When I had arrived, Artorias already had been on his rampage. What a shame for a great warrior to end like this...” 

Ornstein felt the pain in his stomach return, as well as the now so familiar nausea. Seeing this cat talk about everything he knew, he thought, so casually. It felt like too much for him to bare right now. “Please stop...”, he said. 

“Tell me, what happened to Artorias companion?”, Alvina asked. 

“Sif? I have ordered her to watch over the grave. I knew that Artorias would have liked this and Sif would never leave his side, even in death.”, Ornstein truthfully answered.

“Hmph, was that really the right decision?”, Alvina asked, her head cocked to the side. 

“What do you mean?”, Ornstein wanted to know, feeling more and more confused. 

“I mean, Artorias is now known as the hero who stopped the abyss, even though nothing could be farther from the thruth. Don't you think this will attract all kind of grave robbers? Shall that poor thing defend the grave from them all alone?”, the cat said. 

In Ornstein's chest, the guilt spread more and more, making his nausea worse. “Shit, I haven't thought this through...”, he said. 

“That idiot is lucky that I have thought of everything. I intent to form a covenant. A covenant to protect this forest. Everyone who joins this covenant, will be committed to protect the forests from any intruders. Also, I will tell everyone who crosses the forest, that Artorias tale has been nothing but lies. So that they don't want to go to the grave.”, Alvina explained. 

“That actually... sounds like a really good idea.”, Ornstein said. “Do you want me to get the word out about your covenant?”

“Not necessary.”, Alvina said. “I already have my fair share of supporters. But maybe it has been fate that we met here, cause you might want to help out sometimes.”, Alvina handed him a ring. “Wear this and you can get summoned to the forests to fight anyone who wants to defile the grave of your dear friend.”

“Thanks, Alvina.”, Ornstein said. “Maybe it truly was fate that we met down here after all.” 

“Who knows? If you want to talk to me, I will be in the forest.”, Alvina said with a last chuckle and just poofed away. The cat had been an illusion all along. Ornstein stared at the ring in his hand, expecting it to vanish anytime soon, but it stayed there, solid and very real. 

“Maybe I should train Sif a bit every time I visit Artorias grave.”, he said, fumbling for the homeward bone. He concentrated on the item and shortly after felt the pull and then the cold warmth of the bonfire of the township. The sun had nearly set in the meantime. 

Ornstein decided to head back to the mansion. He didn't knew if he wanted any dinner, still feeling nauseous from his experience in the chasm. But he clearly needed some rest now. And tomorrow he and Ciaran would need to travel the long way back to Anor Londo. Ornstein silently hoped that she had returned to the mansion and wasn't still sitting near the grave. 

The dragon slayer watched as the sun vanished completely behind a far away mountain and began his trek back to the mansion, the darkness of the night starting to engulf him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein spends his last day in Oolacile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, I managed to sit down and write this chapter in around two hours! I am amazed. How did I do that? I hope you enjoy ^^

As soon as Ornstein had set foot into the mansion, he got greeted by Dusk and her maidens. He politely refused when asked if he wanted some dinner, his stomach still feeling upset from the events of the day. Instead, he decided to listen to the requests of Dusk's maiden and told them some stories about the dragon war. It certainly helped him to get his mind off Artorias and the beast he had seen in the chasm. While he was spending time with the maidens, he could see that Dusk sat a bit away of them, staring into nothingness. After a while, she stood up and went into the garden. Ornstein excused himself to follow the princess. 

She was sitting in the grass, staring at the moon high up in the sky. Ornstein joined her, raising his head to stare in the moon likewise, saying: “They are watching over us, you know?”

Dusk winced, as if she hadn't even noticed that he had been there. “Who?”, she asked. 

“Dark Sun Gwyndolin, our current lord of Anor Londo.”, Ornstein answered. “They are doing their very best, following the footsteps of their father and sister.” Inwardly, Ornstein knew that Gwyndolin desperately wished for their siblings to return, especially his master, who had been banished a long time ago. 

“Oh, yes, I don't doubt that...”, Dusk said. “I am just worried what will happen to Oolacile now.”

Ornstein stayed silent for a good while, glancing at the princess for a bit, before he finally spoke: “...I can ask Anor Londo to send you supplies to help rebuild your kingdom.”

“That is a gracious offer, but...”, Dusk folded her hands in her laps and lowered her head. “I fear that it might be too late for Oolacile...”

“Princess Dusk, and that after all Artorias has done for you.”, Ornstein nearly shouted. Strange, did he already became used to that lie? It had come so easily over his lips. “Do you already want to give up?” 

Dusk raised her head again, tears staining her face. “...No...”, she said, “I know I have to at least try... but when I see how many citizens are still alive... and when I look at the state of the township... We have been lucky that the mansion still stands. I wanted to open it up for the townsfolk, but Elizabeth said it would be better for me to not having to care for their needs right now, after this traumatic experience... But shouldn't I be with my folk right now? I feel like I lost my right to be their leader...”

Dusk started to sob into her gloves and it soon turned into wailing. Ornstein didn't feel like the right person to comfort her. Seeing the princess like this reminded Ornstein to much of himself, of the breakdowns he faced when it got all too much for him. He felt that he should do something or say something, but he didn't know what. He never had been the comforting type. That always had been Artorias' job. That was, when he remembered Gough's word. 

“Princess.”, he started. “A friend recently told me that it is alright to feel weak once in a while. That you don't have to face it all alone. I am sure when you talk to your folk, you can figure a solution. I will make sure that Anor Londo is behind you.” 

Dusk sobs slowly ceased. She rummaged for a while and then wiped her tears with a handkerchief as white as her gown. “Thank you.”, she said. “Thank you for not judging me.”

“You are welcome.”, Ornstein said, staring back into the sky. Tomorrow he would return to Anor Londo and he shivered a bit thinking about all the work that would await him after his absence. And then he had to explain Artorias' death to his silver knights, if Gwyndolin hadn't already done it. At least with Ciaran at his side, he was sure to manage the work load quickly and be able to return to his usual duties in a flash. 

“I hope my maidens didn't bother you.”, came the voice of Dusk all of a sudden. “They just try to distract themselves. They have been a few of the lucky ones, but some of their relatives haven't been so lucky... I think they try to be so upbeat and jolly for my sake. But that still doesn't excuse their flirty behaviour. So, take my apologies at their behalf.”

“Oh, don't worry, princess, I am perfectly used to it.”, Ornstein answered to the Dusk's monologue. “Our Lord Gwyn used to throw a lot of feasts and the woman would naturally flock around me and Artorias. I just... never had any interest in them, that is all.” 

“Are you into...”, Dusk asked. 

“Yes.”, Ornstein answered before she could finish the sentence, lowering his head. 

“I am glad.”, Dusk said. “Cause for me, it was the same. All these princes gathering around me, wanting me to be their queen, while I just wanted to reign with another princess at my side.” 

Ornstein looked at her and despite having his helmet on, he had to smile at Dusk when she smiled at him when they shared this moment of solidarity. 

“It is late, we should head to bed.”, Dusk said and stood up. “You have to return to Anor Londo tomorrow and probably should get up early.” 

Ornstein nodded: “You are right. Let me just escort you back inside.” 

“These few steps? You are a true knight.”, Dusk chuckled, but allowed Ornstein to walk back in with her. 

“Have a good night, Sir Ornstein.”, she said once inside. Ornstein watched her departing to her room, joined by her maiden's and turned around to go to the guest room he occupied, his body seemed to be very eager to get some sleep. 

_Ornstein found Artorias sitting leaned against a tree in the forest. The wolf knight looked so peaceful in this scenario, as if he was at ease with himself._

_“There you are.”, Ornstein said. “I was wondering where you went.”_

_“Hm? Oh, Ornstein, why don't you join me?”, Artorias said upon noticing the dragon slayer._

_“Joining you in what?”_

_“Being one with nature. Sometimes I just need a break from all the fighting. Spending time in the forest, listening to all the noises, watching the animals, is perfect for this.” A wide grin adorned Artorias' face. “Why don't you try it for yourself? You are always so tense.”_

_“It is hard to not worry when my master's and my lord's fights are getting worse and worse lately.”, Ornstein said, sitting down next to Artorias, laying his spear horizontally over his legs. “And what now?”_

_“Close your eyes and just listen. Let your mind be washed away.”_

_Ornstein did as he was told. At first he didn't notice much, but after a while, he understood what Artorias wanted to show him. The forest around them was brimming with life, he could hear all these little noises, from the small animals, the birds, the bugs, the rustling of the wind in the leaves, even Artorias' breathing. And it made him feel calm, as if nothing bad could happen anymore._

_“Huh, fascinating.”, the dragon slayer said upon opening his eyes._

_“I know, right? I normally come here before we have to go back into battle. To unwind a bit. I mean, every fight could be our last.”_

_Ornstein felt a pang in his chest. He knew that. He knew that one of them could fall in battle any given time. But he didn't want to think about this yet._

_“Don't worry, Artorias.”, he said instead. “I will make sure to come to your aid when you are in trouble. No dragon will be able to get you.”_

_“...But Ornstein, you didn't come to my aid...”_

_Huh? That was strange. Ornstein slowly turned his head to look into Artorias' face only to see that his hood was filled with black tar, as if he was melting._

_“You left me all alone in this abyss, against this beast...”_

_Ornstein started to shiver. “No, stop...”, he said between clenched teeth. “I trusted you. I knew you would be able to do it.”_

_“But I didn't... and you weren't there. Weren't there to help me. Weren't there to stop me. You left me all alone... I even had to die alone, killed by the hands of a stranger...”_

_“Stop it, please...”, Ornstein said, rattling so much that he could feel it to his very core as he saw the darkness engulf Artorias, a horrible set of glowing red eyes opening around him._

Ornstein jerked up in his bed, making a dash outside, but wasn't able to make it to the outhouse anymore. Whatever he managed to puke out, what wasn't much anymore, felt like it was bile only. It made his throat burn. That dream had been... scary. Now that he thought about it, the first part had been a memory. It just had... changed after Ornstein had said to Artorias that he would always come to his aid. He remembered that Artorias had given the promise right back to him, but that has been such a long time ago. 

Now Ornstein was on his knees in some flowerbed, shivering, long red messy hair dragging on the ground, his night shirt wet from sweat, staring at a puddle of bile, unable to get up, with a nightmare still fresh in his mind. 

It felt like a good hour had passed before Ornstein felt able to get up. Luckily nobody had been out there at this time of night, he didn't knew how he would have reacted had someone seen him like this. He returned to his room and searched his belongings for a fresh night shirt only to discover that he was wearing his last clean one. Oh, fantastic, now he had to sleep in the nudes, a thing he hadn't done anymore when the master left, but he really didn't want to keep that wet thing on. He got rid of the night shirt and cuddled back into the blankets, closing his eyes, only to discover that he couldn't fell asleep anymore. The nightmare was still haunting him. That red eyes... they had belonged to the beast. Had it been a mistake to come to the chasm? He tossed and turned for a while before giving up and just stared at the ceiling, then realizing how thirsty he was and downing the jar of water at his night stand far too quick and almost forget to put on some clothes when he had to go to the outhouse because of it. 

After he was done, Ornstein decided that he could very well stay up now. He went back to the room and packed his things together, although very slowly, with a lot of breaks in between when his legs felt like failing him. He was in the process of packing the drawings he had made, when his gaze fell upon that unfinished one of Ciaran praying in front of the make-shift grave. Did she still sit next to Artorias' proper grave? He hadn't seen her return to the mansion... He should ask Princess Dusk about this once she woke up. 

With nothing better to do, Ornstein decided to finish the drawing of Ciaran. He didn't need any reference, he perfectly knew how the assassin looked in her armour. He took his time with the drawing, trying to get every line to perfection when the sun started to rise. He put the drawing away and put on his armour. 

Even though Ornstein still didn't feel like he had a particular appetite, he knew that he had to eat something now, he needed the strength for the return trip. He joined Dusk and her maiden's at breakfast, but didn't said much. He only asked if Ciaran had returned to the mansion somewhen in the night and got a negative answer. Ciaran... did she still sit next to the grave...? 

After breakfast, he fetched his personal belongings. Dusk awaited him in front of the mansion. “Princess, thank you very much for your hospitality.”, Ornstein said, bowing to her. 

“It has be my honour.”, Dusk answered with the proper bow of a princess. “Please tell Lady Ciaran my thanks.”

“With pleasure.” 

Ornstein turned around, attempting to raise a hand to wave to her, when he heard Dusk talk: “Farewell, dragon slayer. I don't think we will see each other again.”

Huh, that had sounded strangely final. Ornstein turned around to ask her what she meant, but Dusk was already gone. He shrugged and made his way to Artorias' grave. 

Sif shot up when she heard his footsteps, but relaxed instantly. Ornstein came over to her and gave the wolf puppy a few firm pets. “Ciaran?”, he asked. Sif turned around and led him to the back of the gravestone, where the assassin was sitting. 

“Ciaran, have you sat here the whole night?”, Ornstein asked. 

“It's none of your business where I spend the night.”, she answered. 

“I am just worried, that is all. Ciaran, it is time for us to return to Anor Londo.”

“I am not coming.”

“Excuse me?”

“You've heard right. I am not coming. I am staying here.” 

What... did she mean it? Was she really serious about that? That changed everything... All this time Ornstein had assumed that at least two of the knighs of Gwyn would return to Anor Londo. 

“But Ciaran, what about your lord's blades?”

“Tell them they are disbanded. Gwyndolin doesn't need them. They have their dark moon blades. I have trained every single one of them myself. I am sure they can find a way in life.”

“So, you really mean it.”, Ornstein declared. “You won't come back.” 

“Someone has to stay with him...”, she said. “So he won't get lonely.”

_He's dead._ Ornstein had almost spilled this over Ciaran. He wanted to believe that Ciaran was just confused, that Artorias death had hit her that hard that she couldn't think straight anymore, but he knew that she was dead serious about this. Or she wouldn't have told him to disband the lord's blades. 

“Ciaran, you know that this means.”, Ornstein said, head lowered, his stomach was stinging with pain. “You are quitting the duties of a knight of Gwyn and that means you can't ever come back, even if you want to.”

Ciaran just nodded. “I am aware of the consequences.” 

“Then let me give you a last order...” Ornstein raised his head and searched firm eye contact with Ciaran, at least he stared a the point where he knew her eyes would be beneath the mask. “Protect him.” 

“Orders are taken and will be executed.”, Ciaran had stood up and now bowed before Ornstein. “Captain, it has been an honour fighting by your side.” 

Ornstein returned the bow. “It has been an honour to fight at your side, too, Lord's Blade.” 

They stayed a while longer like this, until Ornstein took up the word. “Well... guess, I need to get going... I will come back to visit his grave, Ciaran, so we surely will see each other again... Also, I shall deliver you Princess Dusk's gratitude.”

Ciaran raised a hand to wave at him. 

“Goodbye, Ornstein. May the flames guide your way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 chapters and Ornstein still hasn't it made back to Anor Londo ^^'


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein returns to Anor Londo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, now that Artorias is buried and everything why continue, you may ask? I still have some plans for Ornstein in this scenario, but I am pretty sure there aren't too many chapters left. I hope you stay with me on this ride to the very end. This story is very dear to me and I hope other can enjoy my headcanon and interpretation of this canon lore too.

“Ciaran is not coming back.” Ornstein sat leaning against the wall, a hand propped against his chin, his golden lion helmet tossed on the ground next to him, his gaze staring right through the giant. 

Gough didn't answer. Instead, the giant focused solely on his work. 

“...You knew it, right?”

“Hmm, I was expecting it.”, Gough answered. “The way she acted, I had the feeling that could be the case.”

Ornstein sighed, shifting his weight a bit, sitting on the stone ground in his armour wasn't comfortable at all, how could Gough stay like this for so many years now? He inspected the giant, still wearing his armour after all these years, the helmet with the filled up eyeholes which had turned him blind eventually and his great bow still at his side... wait...

“Your greatbow, where is it?”, Ornstein asked. 

“I gave it away. There isn't a need anymore for me to use it.”

“You mean, because the last dragon to threat Anor Londo has been slain?” Ornstein shifted his weight again, exhaling a deep sigh. “It feels like the end of an era.”

Gough stopped his carving and looked at Ornstein, slightly next to him, like always.

“In just a few days, the once so famous knights of Gwyn have practically been disbanded.”, Ornstein said, voice gloomy. “One retired, one dead, one has quit and...”, he took a deep breath, trying to hide a shiver that went through his body. 

“...and I am on the verge of just abandoning it all and go on a journey. I feel there isn't the need for a dragon slayer anymore.”, Ornstein finished. 

“You still aren't over him.” Gough stated. Ornstein simply nodded. 

“But you have come to me first, because you are unsure.” 

Another nod. Ornstein hated how easy it was for Gough to see right through him, even without eyesight, but he also was glad for it. He needed that voice of reason for helping him to not do something stupid. 

“Anor Londo needs me.”, he said. “I still have my duties there, especially now, that Ciaran and Artorias won't come back. And...”, another deep breath, “I can't leave Gwyndolin alone.” 

“Whatever would happen to us, I was always certain of one thing, Ornstein, that you would stay loyal to your very end.”, Gough said. “But remember, sometimes you have to thrust your sense of duty aside in order to find true happiness. Don't let it get you down, Ornstein. May the flames guide your way.” 

“...I will come back to visit you all...”, Ornstein murmured, standing up, fixing his helmet on. “But for now, I have to return to Anor Londo. I have been away long enough. Farewell, Gough.” 

Ornstein didn't turn around when he walked to the ladder leading down the tower, but he was sure that the giant had raised his big hand to wave at him. Like he always did. 

Only when Ornstein's feet reached the ground at the bottom ladder, did he try to think about the words of the giant. Words that would come back to him, much much later, but for now, his feet would only carry him forward. Back to Anor Londo. Where he belonged. Now that he kept it together for so long, he would be able to make it a tiny bit longer. Even though this tiny bit could be as long as it needed to be. 

The sun already started to set, glistening on his armour, when Ornstein could see the silhouette of the cathedral. He braced himself, even though there still was a bit of way to go. This wouldn't be easy at all... He wondered how much the silver knights already knew? Questioning anything didn't help though, the silver knights were overdue to getting their training and some clear orders, that should be all that counted. Ornstein travelled the remaining distance to the cathedral while the sun was setting completely and the stillness of the night laid itself over Anor Londo, the moon rising, a full moon like it always was. Ever since Gwyndolin had took up the mantle of ruling in lieu of Lord's Gwyn and Princess Gwynevere, the moon had always been full. Ornstein had the feeling that it was because of Gwyndolin's association with moonlight magic. Now, that the sun had set, a chilling breeze had set in. Ornstein could feel it, even through his armour. Had it always been that cold at the nights in Anor Londo? He didn't remember. It didn't matter anyway, he was at the front of the cathedral and the silver knights on duty there audibly gasped when they saw him approaching. 

“Captain, you're back.”, the first of them said. Ornstein recognized the voice, Herman, a seasoned veteran. Of course not from the dragon war, no silver knight from the dragon war around anymore. They didn't live that long. 

“Is it true? The news about Sir Artorias...?”, the second one added, a freshman named Jervis, but he quickly got hushed by his companion. 

“We have agreed to not ask about this.”, he whispered, but loud enough for Ornstein to hear. Ah, so they didn't knew yet. Great, meant that he had to tell them next roll call. 

Herman turned his attention back to Ornstein. “Excuse this, Captain.”, he said. “It is good to see you back though, there has been a lot brought to our attention lately. It has been brought to our attention that people have hidden undead and they are wrecking havoc when hollowing, demon's from Lost Izalith have been wandered into the burg, we need a new schedule for our duties and there seem to be some execution's scheduled which couldn't get conducted without your presence, cause, you know, our young lord normally doesn't attend to them and...”

“Stop, STOP!”, Ornstein interrupted the volley of words of the silver knight. “I have just returned and need some rest first. Can we talk about this the next day, please?”

“Of course, captain.”, Herman said and him and Jervis of them returned to their guard duties, whispering to each other. Ornstein passed them and sighed in relief once he was out of earshot. What he first and foremost needed now was a bath. He hadn't bathed several days now and felt very dirty. He first needed to get his belongings to his room though and on the way to it...

“Oh, Captain, you're back. Any news?”

“Do you have any new orders for us?”

“Didn't Lady Ciaran come with you?” 

“Are the rumours true...? Is Sir Artorias...?” 

Ornstein had to tell each and every single one of them to not bother him now,he would tell them everything the next day, until he got so annoyed by the questions that he just started to growl whenever a silver knight opened their mouth. After what felt like an eternity, he finally arrived at his room, opened the door, closed it behind him and crashed face down on his bed in physical and mental exhaustion. 

After around five minutes of laying there, the weight of his armour became far too uncomfortable, so he rolled around and stood up, getting rid of his armour. He eyed his travel bag but decided to unpack it later, it was too late for the servants to do the laundry anyway. He opened a chest at the end of his bed and searched for a bathing robe, then got some soap and a washing cloth from his cupboard. Equipped with this, Ornstein made his way to the bathroom. 

The Anor Londo bathroom was some kind of big thermal bath, probably kept warm by pyromancies, Ornstein never had fathomed how it worked, as long as it would fulfil its purpose. At certain days the bath was open for the public, but mostly it was meant for the knights and servants, separated into one for man and one for woman. At this time of day, he could expect it to be practically empty and he strode into the bathroom with a satisfied smile when he saw that it indeed was the case.

Ornstein sat down in the hot water, feeling how it embraced his sore muscles and pretty much broke down there and then, all flooding into him at once. All the stuff he had experience in Oolacile, that Artorias was dead and he would never see him again, that Ciaran hadn't come back with him, that he had been on the verge of abandoning his post for good. That he was now back, at Anor Londo, and everyone was expecting him to solve all the problems, him alone, without any help, as if he was their kind of hero or saviour. 

But that was who he was. He was the man who had managed to single-handedly slain over 80 dragons, who had proven himself worthy to be the silver knight captain at a young age, who had been given enough trust of his lord to get assigned one of the four knights of Gwyn, who had been trained personally by the master, who would set things right. What else should they expect from him? Surely not him having a mental breakdown while taking a bath. 

“Keep it together.”, he murmured to himself. “They count on you. That was why you returned to them. Because you are needed here.” Ornstein slowly grabbed for a washing cloth and began to clean his body, while reciting his mantra again and again, starting to not believe it himself anymore. 

Ornstein spent a lot of time cleaning himself, felt like the filth of that beast he had seen in the abyss was still crawling on his skin, only stopping to scrub when it started to hurt. His thoughts wandered to Artorias. He often had come here to bath late at night, but often enough Artorias would have dragged him into the bath when it was fairly occupied and he could still hear the hearty laugh of his friend when he joked with the silver knights or when Ornstein scolded them for trying to peak into the woman's bath. Often enough Artorias had taken it upon him to try and wash Ornstein's long hair, until the lion knight had become mad at him because he would tangle it even more. 

When he left the bath, Ornstein felt a certain moisture on his face. Unsure if it was just the water or tears, he wiped it away with his towel anyway and got dressed into the bathing robes, wadding his dirty clothes into a ball, making a beeline for his room, hoping that no other silver knight would distract him anymore. 

Back in his room, Ornstein just tossed the dirty clothes on the floor, looking at his travel bag, deciding it was too late to unpack and he could do this the next day right after getting up. He had just laid down into the bed, when his stomach growled. 

Oh right, lately he had barely been able to keep any food in him. Because of this he also had barely ate anything this day, wanting to keep the food in him and now it showed. It was far too late for the kitchen to be open now and Ornstein was a horrible cook, so he had to wait for breakfast. 

At least that meant that his food would stay down this time. He nestled himself in his blanket, grabbed his comfort pillow and closed his eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Anor Londo, Ornstein needs to get an overview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Difficult chapter was difficult. Hope you like. I have to admit, this is the part of the story that hasn't sit in my head for several months now, so I have to make up stuff while I write it. Hope it is enjoyable ^^

When Ornstein awoke, the morning sun already shone through his window. He released his comfort pillow, stretched and made his way out of bed, relieved that no nightmare had come to him this time. He made himself ready for the day, sure that a long one was in front of him, when his stomach loudly reminded him that it demanded some food. 

“Oh right, I better get some breakfast.”, Ornstein murmured to himself, wondering if he could meet up with Ciaran for it, when he remembered. Oh, right, she hadn't come back with him. With a deep sigh, Ornstein finished dressing with putting on his helmet and made his way to the mess hall. 

When Ornstein sat down at the table of the four knights, he felt several eyes stare into his direction. He knew the silver knights were dying for some answers, in fact, he could hear them whispering with each other. Another part of him however felt, they were staring because he was sitting alone at that table now. Granted, he had sat alone at this table for a while now, but back then everyone had assumed that Artorias and Ciaran would have come back. And then their captain had vanished too for a few days, leaving them completely in the dark. Still, he started to feel uncomfortable under their stares and whispering, it felt weird enough for him already to have returned alone, having to sit on the special table for the knights of Gwyn on his own. He tried to concentrate on his food instead, but gobbled it down too quickly in an attempt to escape this onerous atmosphere, feeling his stomach slightly cramp in protest. 

The next step was the roll call for the silver knights. When Ornstein arrived, most of them had already gathered, the clanking of armour and weapons as well as their whisperings were filling the room. Ornstein walked up to his usual position, turned around and raised his voice.

“Silver knights, assemble!”, he shouted, waiting a bit for them to turn their attention to him and for the late-comers to take in their places. As he was sure that each and every silver knight was listening, he started to talk:

“It surely has already been brought to your attention, that I was called to Oolacile by Ciaran because of a grave problem that happened. And hereby I have to inform you, that sadly Artorias has fallen in battle.”

Ornstein stopped, giving the silver knights some time to process this information. He heard them gasp, whispering with each other, he had the impression he could hear some of them sobbing. 

After a short while, one of the silver knights raised their voice: “Captain, how did it happen?” Ornstein could hear affirmative mumbling from some of the others.

“So, while Artorias was able to slay the beast that tormented Oolacile and save the town out of the clutches of the abyss, sadly, he also lost his life, succumbing to his injuries shortly after he succeeded his mission.” 

Ornstein felt a pang in his stomach, the cramps in it feeling a bit worse. He knew he couldn't tell his silver knights the truth, they needed to look up to Artorias as a hero, not a failure. He could hear the silver knights hastily discussing with each other. 

“Silence.”, Ornstein shouted, slightly annoyed and the silver knights stopped their talking at once, a bunch of winged helmets turned into his direction. 

“The reason for my absence this past days has been, that I needed to attend the burial ceremony. Artorias has been gifted a grave by Oolacile and now rests in the royal garden. We have to make sure that he can rest in piece and I would like for you all to partake in a moment of silence, praying for his soul.” 

Ornstein took in the prayer stance and watched from the corner of his visor that the silver knights were doing the same. A short while later, a collective “May the flames guide this soul.” sounded and the silver knights once again stared at Ornstein. 

“So, because of my absence I need an overview about what happened.”, Ornstein continued. “I have put Amira and Terrick in charge, so I expect you two to give me your report before you start your duties. For the rest of you, your new orders will be given out at the evening call. You are dismissed.” 

The two silver knights Ornstein had mentioned parted from the group and waited for the other silver knights to spread out. As soon as he had dismissed them, their whispering and murmuring to each other resumed. Ornstein couldn't blame them for it, it had been a lot to take in. Ornstein strolled into the direction of Amira and Terrick. 

“Let's go to the conference room.”, he said to them and led the way. 

“Captain.”, Amira suddenly said, “This must have been a harsh shock for you. We understand if you need some time to work through this.” 

Ornstein stopped dead in his tracks, making the two almost bump into him. “I did had enough time for it already, it is time to properly get back to my duties.”, he said, but the cramps in his stomach said otherwise. 

“We perfectly know how close you and Artorias were, captain.”, Terrick added. “We are just worried, that is all.” 

“I am fine.”, Ornstein said, knowing what a blatant lie this was, but he banned it into the back of his head and opened the door to the conference room, taking his usual seat, while the two silver knight just stood there, looking around, unsure of what to do. 

“Please, sit down.”, Ornstein said and gestured to the stools. Amira and Terrick reluctantly came forward and sat down each, her in the place of Ciaran and him in the place of Artorias. Another pang crawled into Ornstein's stomach and he started to regret that he had breakfast. 

“So, I bumped into Herman yesterday and he already told me that there is quite some trouble.”, Ornstein started. “Please give me your reports.” 

“Of course, captain.”, Amira said and took a bunch of papers out of her armour, Ornstein briefly wondered if she had been carrying them around this whole time, “The most trouble we have lately are the increased numbers of Undead in the human population. The curse of the dark sign has gotten more and more common, it seems. Only a small part of the undead population admit it and are going to the asylum on their own free will. The larger part hides it, often protected by their relatives and then cause havoc when they go hollow, making it very troublesome to ship them off to the asylum.”

“This is indeed a huge problem, if people don't follow the rules.”, Ornstein said. “Form teams to hunt down any hollow you can find. And I shall speak to Gwyndolin about it, so that we can ensure rules, that the human population gets checked for the dark sign.”

He sighed, continuing: “The humans probably won't like this, but we can't keep hollows letting damage our reputation and our citizens. What happened with the people who were protecting the cursed ones?”

“They faced trial and got found to be guilty and shall be executed to death. They are in the dungeons now, the executioner Smough is ready to do his job, but a authoritarian figure was missing for it, cause our Lord Gwyndolin refused to attend them. So it would be good if you could talk to the executioner as soon as possible, the dungeon has gotten quite full lately.”

Ornstein sighed again, it wasn't a secret that he and the executioner didn't like each other a lot. And how would he react now, that Ornstein came back alone, after been denied the ranks of the four knights of Gwyn for so long? Ornstein knew he was strong enough and he must possess a special soul, cause the executioner was living as long as Ornstein was now. Still, with his cannibalistic behaviour, Ornstein just couldn't let him join the ranks of the four knights. Even though they were down to only him now. 

“At least that means Smough won't go hungry.”, Ornstein said with a grim face, noticing the two silver knights staring at each other for a second. “I have been noted that demon's have wandered into the Burg from Lost Izalith. What are the black knights doing?” 

Terrick and Amira share another look and this time Terrick began to speak: “Like you know, most of the remaining black knights have taken it to themselves to fight the demon threat directly in Izalith. However, lately we didn't had any reports from them, so we can only assume the worst... The remaining black knights have gone searching for their missing comrades, but none of them has returned yet. Thus is why the demon threat in the Burg hasn't been taken care off yet.” 

“This is really troublesome.”, Ornstein murmured. “Demon's may not be very intelligent, but they are fearsome foes. I should take care of this one personally. And if there hasn't been a report in a week, we have to make sure to find out what happened to the remaining black knights.” 

“So you are going to fight the demon on your own, captain? I will give you the exact location of its sighting later then.”, Terrick said. 

“Yes, I am used to fight huge foes anyway, it is easier going on my own than lead a troop of silver knights against it.”, Ornstein said. “Anything else to report?”

“Yes, we have trouble with the dark wraithes in New Londo, terrorizing the citizens there.”, Amira took up the word again. “We were hoping for Sir Artorias to take care off this problem once he returned, but...”, she trailed off. 

Ornstein felt his stomach cramp up once again and now a bout of nausea washed over him too. It had only been a few days and this much trouble had occurred. At least he couldn't complain that it would get boring for him. 

“Normally Artorias would take care of this threat, you are right.”, he murmured more to himself before raising his voice. “We need some scouting work in New Londo, find out where and when the dark wraithes normally strike. Make sure to get relief supplies to New Londo and every citizen who searches shelter shall be welcome here, but search them for the dark sign first.”, Ornstein ordered. “Oh, I just remembered, we need relief supplies for Oolacile too. Can you make sure that some are getting send there?” 

“Noted, captain. We shall make sure to fill out your orders.”, Amira said. “That should have been all. Apart of the paperwork of course. Shall I get it to your room?” 

“Yes, please.”, Ornstein nodded, internally groaning at the paperwork. Usually Artorias would help him out with it, cause of his handwriting. But Artorias wasn't there anymore... “And... find the silver knight with the nicest handwriting and give me their name.”, he added. 

“As you wish.”, Amira and Terrick both stood up and bowed to him. “Can we go back to our duties now?”

“Yes, you are dismissed.”, Ornstein said absentminded while watching the two silver knights leaving a room. He had a lot on his mind right now. He probably should go talk to Gwyndolin first, they surely were worried about him and he should inform them about the talk he had with his silver knights. Ornstein left the room, but was stopped on his way when he he felt a presence in the hallway. 

“No need to hide yourself, come out.”, he shouted and the lord's blade revealed herself. 

“Sir Ornstein, you surely happen to know about Lady Ciaran's whereabouts.”, she said. 

Ornstein swallowed. A thing he nearly forgot. He had to tell the lord's blades the truth about Ciaran's decision. He braced himself when he opened his mouth: “Ciaran told me that she is not coming back. The lord's blade are hereby disbanded. You are all free to go where you want.” 

The woman just stared at him, he could feel it even through her mask, the sense of disbelief, but she recovered quickly: “If that is the wish of our Lady Ciaran, then I will tell the other lord's blades. Farewell, dragon slayer.” 

“Maybe I can ask Gwyndolin if you can serve as their dark moon blades.”, Ornstein said but the lord's blade had already been gone. Ornstein's stomach ache tightened and his nausea intensified in a way that he had to stop and take a few deep breathes. 

“Keep it together.”, he murmured to himself, slowly trotting to the Dark Moon Tomb where he was let in by Gwyndolin, who awaited him at the end of the hallway sitting in a chair.

“Ornstein, since when are you back? You should have send a message.”, they said. 

“...Sorry, I... forgot.”, Ornstein averted his gaze and stared at the floor, trying to concentrate on a pattern in it. Why hadn't he thought about sending a bird to inform Gwyndolin about everything? He blamed the whole burial ceremony stress for it. 

“How was the burial ceremony?” Gwyndolin raised their catalyst and conjured a second chair next to them, gesturing at Ornstein to sit down on it, which he did. 

“Everything was going exactly as planned. It was a wonderful ceremony and Artorias has gotten a wonderful grave. Princess Dusk and I have hold a speech for him both. His soul surely is on the way to Nito now. Sif stayed at his grave. And so... did Ciaran.”

Even though Gwyndolin's eyes were covered by a mask, Ornstein could see their surprise. He knew them long enough now. It was the way they shifted, the tiny gasp he heard and the way their snakes withdrew. 

“I want to say that I am not surprised.”, they started. “But that would be a lie.” 

“I know.”, Ornstein said. “I was convinced she would return with me to the cathedral.”

“What about the lord's blades?” 

“She said to me to disband them. Before I came here I met one of them and delivered her message. I wanted to ask if they would be able to serve as your dark moon blades, of course only if they want to.” 

Gwyndolin seemed to consider it. “Yes, they could serve as my dark moon blades. After all, since my father and my sister left, there haven't been many political enemies we had to take care off. And for every sinner I have the dark moon blades ready. I guess Anor Londo doesn't has a need for assassin's anymore. I will submit my offer to them.”

Both of them fell into silence after this. Both of them knew that Anor Londo wasn't anymore what it once had been. That since Lord Gwyn left, it had lost a lot of its glory. Gwyndolin was doing their best, Ornstein knew it, but he also knew, that there was another reason for Ciaran not coming back. She had given up on Anor Londo, while he still hold onto some faint hope. 

“So, any reports?”, Gwyndolin asked. 

“Yes.”, Ornstein said. “I have ordered the silver knights to send relief supplies to Oolacile and New Londo, apparently the latter is under attack from the dark wraiths. I have also told that we would take in any refugees, but...”, Ornstein swallowed, “with the curse of the dark sign and the trouble it brought, we can't let the human population go unsupervised anymore. We have to check every human who comes in for the dark sign.” 

“Once Anor Londo was home to many deities and divines, but a lot of them left sadly, so that we have to rely on the human population to fill out the gaps... with the curse we surely can't let them go unsupervised anymore.”, Gwyndolin said. “But which forces should we use to control the borders? The silver knights are struggling with their tasks, a lot of them left with my sister. Maybe you should think about recruiting some more?” 

“If anyone still wants to be a silver knight. I will make sure to get some recruit posters plastered over town.”, Ornstein sighed. “Well, I better go now, there have been demon sightings in the burg and I wanted to take care of it personally.” Ornstein stood up from the chair which promptly vanished. “I will come back to visit once I have time.” 

As Ornstein was on his way out of the tomb, he heard Gwyndolin's voice behind him: “Ornstein, are you alright?” 

He turned around, looked at them, his stomach cramping with pain, forced a smile, forgetting that he was wearing his helmet and just said: “Don't worry, I am fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Stomach aches? Nausea? Nightmares? I don't know what you are talking about, I am completely fine.” - Dragon Slayer Ornstein


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ornstein starts to take care of stuff.

Ornstein was sitting next to the privy, rubbing his upset stomach. He had visted the privy to relief himself before he would set off to the Burg, but as soon as he had entered the small room, his nausea had acted up and he managed to force a majority of his breakfast back out. He sat on the ground a while longer, waiting for the nausea to subdue, trying to calm his stomach down with deep breathes. Once his stomach had calmed down, he remembered that he still needed to relief himself, but he found it kinda gross to use the same privy he had just puked in and ventured to another one for it. On his way to wash his hands and get a jar of water for the sour taste in his mouth, he ran into Terrick. 

“Ah, captain, perfect that I run into you, I have written down the location of the demon sighting.”, he said and gave Ornstein a piece of paper. 

“Thank you, Terrick.”, Ornstein said, trying to not give up an impression that he just had puked. As soon as the dragon slayer had washed his hands at the cathedral well, gargling his mouth with the fresh water, he took a look at the paper. The demon in question seemed to have made one of the towers of the Burg its home and from Terrick's informations some of the infantry soldiers there had fallen victim to it. He spat out the mouthful of water in a nearby bucket and folded the piece of paper to put it into his armour, grabbing his spear, making his way to the Burg. 

Arrived at the Burg, Ornstein could feel the gazes of the infantry soldiers on him. He wasn't surprised, he rarely was seen in the human settlements, most of the threats their soldiers could fend off themselves and for demon sightings the black knights usually would come around. He made sure to look as tall and proud as possible, his long ponytail resembling a plume hovering in the air behind him, dragon slayer spear in right hand. Even though the spear had been imbued with lightning powers due for being used to fight dragons, it was a blessing that it still had them, cause a lot of demon's were know for having a weakness against lightning. So a satisfied grin washed over Ornstein's face when he arrived at the tower and saw the Taurus Demon standing on it. 

Ornstein took a run-up, leaping up the tower and landed flawlessly with both feet on the ground, which made a clanking sound, prompting the demon to turn around, grunting, raising its giant axe. Ornstein effortlessly evaded the strike, which hit the ground with an earth shuddering thud. Strong, but slow, there was some kind of primal intelligence in the creature, but nowhere as much as the fierce and smart dragons. The moment the demon needed to raise its weapon from the ground, Ornstein had already struck and thrusted his spear deep into the flesh of the Taurus, which made the creature growl in pain, trashing around with its weapon. Ornstein easily avoided it by leaping into the air, aerial battle was one of his strengths, landing on one of the tower crenels. The creature stopped when it noticed that its attacker had escaped, growling and raising the axe for a massive strike once it had spotted Ornstein. Ornstein however didn't leave the creature any room to attack and drove the spear right into the creature's chest, which screamed in agony and then quickly went limb, falling onto the ground. Ornstein waited around a minute, his hand still clutching the shaft of his spear, but the demon didn't move anymore and Ornstein could feel how its soul power got added to his own. He yanked his spear out of the creature, nose wrinkled when he saw the bloody mess on the blade. 

“Well, this has been taken care off. It took me longer to get here then actually killing that thing.”, he said to himself and hopped off the tower, landing smoothly at the tower's base, like a cat on its feet. Some of the stationed infantry soldiers stared at him in awe. 

“Sir Ornstein, this was magnificent.”, one of them said. “It took several of us to even hurt it and even then, two died and three were severely injured.”

“....Better don't try to fight them yourself then anymore.”, Ornstein said. “Still, the demons have become bold, wandering that far from Lost Izalith...” He murmured more to himself. 

“Sir Ornstein, there is something that we noticed and we think you should now...”, the same infantry soldier said. 

“What is it?”, Ornstein asked. 

“It is about the black knights. There has been one wandering into the burg and we thought they would take care of the demon threat, but instead they have been hostile to anyone in their way, even killing a few soldiers. But... Black Knights are divines, right? It is not like they could go hollow...”

“What? Are you sure it has been a black knight? And not someone just wearing their armour?”, Ornstein asked. It was impossible for black knights to go hollow, cause there were no humans among them. 

The soldier shook his head: “First, I know no human that would be strong enough to kill a black knight and second, they were far too big and far too experienced with that weapon.”

“Where is this black knight now?”, Ornstein almost shouted, laying both hands on the shoulders of the tiny soldier, making him flinch. 

“They are gone now. They just seemed to wander through.”, the soldier whimpered. 

Ornstein realized what he was doing and let go of the soldier, the man quickly stepping a few paces away. “If you encounter this black knight again.”, Ornstein started. “Tell Anor Londo at once. They clearly have gone rogue. Don't try to fight, just trace their steps and get reinforcements as quickly as possible.” 

The soldier nodded: “Will do, captain, sir.” 

Back at the cathedral, after having some lunch, Ornstein decided to take a look at the paperwork. Just as he was about to go to his room, a timid voice sounded behind him: “Captain Ornstein?”

He turned around to see a rather small silver knight approaching him, shrinking into themselves, looking like they would be rather be somewhere completely else right now. Ornstein remembered this posture from himself, when he had been a young silver knight himself needing to talk to the current generals. Ornstein decided to approach to them with as much as a calm voice as possible: “Is something the matter?” Normally Ornstein knew the names of his silver knights, but he couldn't recall this one, must have been fairly new. 

“M.. my name is Sira.”, they said, judging from the voice and the name probably a female, “I got send here by Sir Terrick, b... because you n.. need some help with h.. handwriting?” 

Oh right, he had ordered to get the silver knight with the best handwriting, that apparently was this girl. “Yes, that is correct.”, he said. “I just wanted to take a look at the paperwork. You can come into my... the conference room.”, Ornstein quickly corrected himself, it had been completely normal for Artorias to hand around in his room, but he feared if he would invite this shy girl into his room, she would faint. 

“How about you get some ink and quills and meet me there?”, he proposed. 

“O.. Of course, captain.”, Sira said and stormed off, probably more than relieved to have this over with. Ornstein finished the distance to his room, opened the door and internally groaned when he saw the mountains of paperwork. 

“How could it be this much in a week?”, he murmured. Then he remembered that he pretty much hadn't done the paperwork the two weeks prior cause Artorias hadn't been there. “Artorias always would scold me about procrastinating.”, he murmured to himself and snatched the paperwork, delivering it to the conference room, where Sira already had prepared ink, quills and some candles. She seemed to assume that they would be here sometime and she probably was right. Ornstein put the paperwork down and took a seat, removing his helmet and gauntlets. 

“So, I look over the paperwork and tell you what you have to fill out. I would do it myself but nobody seems to be able to read my handwriting.”, he explained. He wasn't even sure if he needed to explain, his poor handwriting skills had been an inside joke among the silver knights for centuries now. Sira just nodded to him, staring at the table.

Ornstein grabbed for the first document and scanned it, then handing it to Sira, telling what she had to write before signing it himself. This procedure continue a few times, until Ornstein noticed something. He looked up and said: “Sira, you can feel free to take off your helmet.” So far the girl had only taken off her gauntlets. She briefly made eye contact with him and then just shook her head. It wasn't like Ornstein couldn't understand it, most of the time he felt incredibly more comfortable wearing his armour too. He just didn't like that apparently he made this young silver knight so uncomfortable, that she didn't even wanted to show her face to him. 

“It's your choice. Just be assured that I don't bite, even though I am a lion.”, he said in a jokingly matter. Sira didn't answer to it and the both of them worked together with an increasing feeling of discomfort from Ornstein's side. They only words they changed was the stuff he told Sira to fill out and after a while he could give her a bunch of papers that all were filled out the same and hearing nothing but the scraping of the quills on the document nearly made him crazy. So Ornstein decided to break the silence. 

“Artorias would normally bring cookies to this sessions.”, he told. “I didn't even knew he could bake at first, until I saw everyone in the whole cathedral with cookies, even our late Lord Gwyn, and then ran into Artorias who handed them out.” 

No reaction from Sira. Ornstein asked himself if he overstepped boundaries. “Oh, but that doesn't mean that I expect you to bring cookies.”, he quickly said. “Just wanted to share an anecdote...”, he trailed off, talking about Artorias made him feel sick, and it was back to only the sounds of the scraping quills.

When evening hit and the room started to get dark, Sira attempted to light the candles, but Ornstein stopped her. “It is enough for now. You can go having dinner. I'll stay and finish what I can do without your help.”

Sira bowed to him and said: “Th... thank you, captain.”, the first word she had said in hours and Ornstein watched her storm out of the room. He sighed and took a look at the unworked papers. He didn't feel like getting dinner himself, his stomach still feeling tight, so he got to work, lighting the candles himself. 

It must have been around midnight, when Ornstein realized that he still hadn't worked on a new plan for the silver knights. Cursing under his breath, he put the paperwork aside and got a new scroll to write down their new plan. As he was finished with it, he got up, groaning because his muscles felt cramped from sitting so long, feeling extraordinarily tired. He stared at the paperwork, decided that it would annoy nobody if he just left it like that and made his way out of the conference room to prepare for bed, hoping to get a bit of sleep before he had to get up again.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad dreams and sleepless nights don't impede Ornstein from taking care of his duties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was rewriting and adding stuff to this chapter all the time, but finally I feel satisfied enough with it to publish it. A thanks to my dear modounbubble for helping me figure out the dream scene.

_Ornstein heard the knock on the door and went to open it, letting Artorias in the room who carried the paperwork._

_“Procrastinated again, huh?”, Artorias scolded and set the tower of papers down on the table._

_“Come on, we were out on the field all the time.”, Ornstein groaned and got an ink pot and two quills, handing one to Artorias._

_“I know, quite a few death reports to fill out.” Artorias dunked the quill into the ink pot._

_Ornstein groaned again: “That is the most difficult part of being the captain of the knights... We lose so many with every dragon that falls...”_

_“It seems to have gotten worse after the prince left... Sorry.”, Artorias added in the instant Ornstein glared at him. He sighed and worked in silence on signing every filled out report that Artorias gave him._

_“...Artorias, you used far too much ink on this.”, Ornstein said, frowning at one of the reports, the splotches were so bad that the text barely was readable anymore._

_“...I haven't, what are you talking about?”, Artorias said with a quizzing look at Ornstein and then both of them stared at his hand._

_“Artorias, you are bleeding!”, Ornstein said and rushed over to his friend to investigate. “Uh, you are bleeding goop?” Ornstein stared at the black sludge coming from Artorias hand._

_“You know why, Ornstein.”, Artorias whispered. “Because you left me to rot into this abyss...”_

_A feeling of dread washed over Ornstein. This wasn't real. He was in a dream again. He pushed Artorias away from him, saw him fell onto the floor where the abyss opened up and he could see this gigantic hand grabbing him, pulling him with it, while Artorias made a noise that could only be described as an unholy screech. Ornstein took a few steps back, feeling utterly helpless, when his gaze fell onto the death report on the table._

_“Artorias the Abysswalker” was written in his own elegant handwriting on the top of it._

As soon as Ornstein awoke he dangled from the side of his bed to puke into the precautionary placed chamber pot at the floor. Because Ornstein hadn't eaten anything for a good while, it was mostly only bile. He stayed a while like this, unsure if it was over, before retreating and cleaning out his mouth. He didn't feel like he could go back to sleep. His throat hurt, he still felt the bad taste in his mouth and he simply couldn't stay in his room right now, where his nightmare had taken place. He got up, slipped into his armour, grabbed his spear and practically ran out of his room, out of the cathedral, into the night, only stopping when he reached the now barren and silent Anor Londo market place.

Ornstein panted heavily, normally a run like this wouldn't have exhausted him at all, but with the lack of sleep and how little he had kept down of his food lately, he needed a moment to brace himself. “Keep it together.”, he murmured to himself between pants and straightened himself up once the fit was over, absorbing the impressions of the silent market place with his gaze. 

“I never liked patrolling here.”, Ornstein said aloud to himself, starting to stroll down the market place. “Too many people, too many noises. This always has been Artorias realm.” His voice echoed along the empty street. 

Ornstein slowly trudged along the paved street, only accompanied by the sound of his boots. He reached the end of the street and turned left into a side road. It was quiet of course, but it felt too quiet for Ornstein's taste, even though it was late in the night. He scanned his surroundings to see houses with doors and windows nailed shut. Abandoned, sealed shut, nobody intended to ever return to this homes. Ornstein drooped his head. He knew that many deities left the city when Gwyn didn't came back from linking the fire. And he knew that even more followed once the princess had accepted marriage and left to live with her new husband. Still, seeing it like this felt strange, it was like he had to acknowledge what Ciaran and Gough seemed to have known all this time... He kinda felt stupid for holding on this faint hope. A hope he didn't even knew what it was directed at. That the lord would come back? Unlikely. That the princess would suddenly show up again? Why should she, she had another land to rule now. That his master would show up? Practically impossible. Ornstein sighed and continued to navigate through the maze of Anor Londo's side roads, stopping in front of a particular house. 

That was the house where Artorias had been raised and where his parents had lived until their death. A house he didn't like to enter, cause it was usually full of dogs, Artorias' parents had bred them for a living. He clearly remembered the first time he and Artorias had patrolled through this part of the town and his mother had stopped them, wanting to be introduced to Artorias friend. One of the only people in the world that didn't call him dragon slayer right away. Ornstein had to admit, that had made him feel incredible at ease at that moment. And then Artorias basically had dragged him inside when she invited them both for dinner and Ornstein had froze when he saw the dogs. That had been everywhere. And it took a good bit of work of Artorias and his mother to calm him down and he remembered how both of them couldn't stop apologizing to him. Ornstein smiled under his helmet about this memory, but it got clouded by a pang in his still upset stomach. A once happy memory now felt incredibly painful. Ornstein quivered, spear clutched in his hands, before he forced himself to move on. 

At the corner of a street he saw something moving from the corner of his eyes. Spear ready, he followed the shadow but relaxed when it turned out to be just a stray cat, having a fish in its mouth. Ornstein remembered this cat, one of the many strays who roamed this part of town. Artorias would often feed them. Now that he took a closer look, the cat looked a bit more thin than usual. Even though Ornstein wasn't at the best terms with cats, the little animals would hiss at him whenever they could, he was thinking about bringing them some treats when he would go on his next patrol. He kind of felt like he owed Artorias at least this little gesture. He watched the cat disappearing behind a corner, made a mental note where he had seen it and moved on. 

Ornstein stopped his patrol again when he had reached the statue of the four knights of Gwyn. Memories of how the statue was carved crept into his mind. He remembered that they had to change poses countless times and then actually had to stand like this. And Artorias didn't made it easier by suddenly starting to telling bad jokes, that infuriated Ornstein and made Gough chuckle and Ornstein still didn't knew how Ciaran could keep a straight face at it, even though they all had been in armour, the serious tone had been completely lost and when Ornstein complained, Artorias claimed that he just wanted to lighten the mood. While it was a pretty funny memory, Ornstein didn't feel like laughing. Instead his eyes trailed over the statue. 

Each and every one of them was well done, an exact match of their living counterpart (even though in Artorias case living wasn't the right word anymore). All of them had been hewn in an action pose. Ornstein spent a brief moment looking at his statue, the spear ready, even some lightning sparks had been added, even though most of them had fallen off over the years. Then his eyes went to Gough, the largest of them who readied his bow, Ciaran with her gold and silver tracer, looking like she did stand into the shadow of the other knights and finally Artorias, sword and shield raised into the air, looking like the most heroic of them. And Ornstein knew it had been true, they always could count on Artorias, his shield would be there to defend them, he would raise his sword to fight for them. There hadn't been a truer knight of Gwyn than him and he very much had been the centre of their bond. 

Now, the centre of their bond was no more. Gough sat in a tower, retired and shunned, being blinded as a result, Ciaran had sat down next to Artorias' grave and Ornstein knew she would never come back and Artorias had fallen to the abyss, lying in a grave, his soul tainted. And Ornstein was still there, the last knight of Gwyn, alone, sleepless, staring at a statue from better times in the middle of the night.

When Ornstein returned to the cathedral, morning had started to dawn but it still was too early for most of the cathedral inhabitants to be awake. He decided to take another look at the paperwork. On his way to it the only people he ran into were the silver knights on guard duty and some of the servants who got ready for their day. Each and every one of them greeted him in the usual respectful way the captain deserved and he reciprocated them. A part of him wondered if they could tell his inner turmoil just by looking at him. 

Once he reached the conference room, he took a look at the paper mountains and groaned. Yesterday he had already sorted most of the paperwork, but stopped when he realized he hadn't made a new plan for the silver knights yet. He walked over to the table and got the plan, folded it and stuck it into his armour, he would need this later. Now what should he do? His gaze fell onto a very specific document... the death report about Artorias. But... remembering his dream, Ornstein felt queasy even thinking about filling this out. Instead, he decided to take a new scroll and write the mission report for his time in Oolacile, he would let Sira transcribe it later. 

Just as Ornstein was in the process of describing that he found Kalameet's dead body, he stumbled upon explaining how the fierceful dragon had fell. A random Undead came through and Gough helped them to ground the black dragon for them to slay it. That would shine a good light on Anor Londo... He instead decided to write that Gough had significantly weakened the creature and it had been slain by a warrior of unknown origin. At last that wasn't even a lie. When he finished writing this sentence, he put down his quill to stretch a bit. A look out of the window told him, that the cathedral would spark to life soon, the sun was almost up. He probably should finish this report up and then meet up with the silver knights. Just as he picked up the quill, he heard the door handle and looked up, who could it be at this time of day? It wasn't like the other knights of Gwyn were still around... He was surprised when he recognized the entering silver knight as Sira who stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him. 

“Oh, Captain Ornstein, I.. I am sorry, I didn't want to disturb you.”, she said, fidgeting with her gauntlets. 

“Don't worry, you didn't.”, Ornstein answered. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I.. I was thinking about getting some of the paperwork done before roll call...”, her voice nearly drowned itself. Ornstein knew he had asked for the silver knight with the best handwriting but maybe he should have asked for one who isn't that shy either. Still, he couldn't help feeling like he could relate to this girl. He had been quite similar in his early silver knight days. 

“I was just in the process of writing my mission report for Oolacile and it would be a great help if you could transcribe.”, he said and tried to slap on his nicest smile, unsure if he succeeded. At least he didn't seem to scare Sira away, cause the young silver knight took a seat and did as requested. The two of them managed to finish the Oolacile report before the roll call started and Ornstein requested for Sira to meet him again in the early evening. 

After breakfast (Ornstein sincerely hoped that this time it would stay down), Ornstein had to meet up with Smough, the executioner. He didn't look forward to this meeting at all... At the stairs to the dungeon, Ornstein took a deep breath, braced himself and descended into the darkness below. He took a torch from the wall to lighten the dim corridor and soon spotted the large form of the executioner in his ridiculous armour, golden as his own, but far from the majesty Ornstein liked to wear. He cleared his throat to get the attention of the larger man and started to talk right away once he turned around: “Executioner Smough, I am here to schedule the closest executions.”

After Smough had finished turned around, he towered over Ornstein. Ornstein couldn't see his face but he was sure the executioner was glaring at him. 

“Well well well, if it isn't the last knight of Gwyn.”, the low, deep voice of Smough sounded. 

Ornstein internally sighed. As if he hadn't expected it... “Please, can we just set the schedule? I want to be done with his.”, he answered. “I have other stuff to do, you know.”

“Of course. Though, I wonder why? Maybe because your other knights left you alone?” 

Jeez, that rumour had spread quickly. Ornstein felt a pang in his stomach. _Keep it together,_ he thought to himself. _You don't want to do this. Especially not in front of the executioner._

“So you are aware that we are understaffed so I would appreciate if we could get this handled quickly.”, Ornstein said, trying to keep the tone as objective as possible. 

“Of course, captain.”, the words felt like they were dripping with sarcasm. “Just tell me when you have time. It is not that I haven't time. Unless someone would consider to offer me one of three open positions.”

“Smough, we talked about this countless times.”, Ornstein sighed. “As long as you don't change your, uh, habits, I can't offer you a position among the knights of Gwyn. For the executions, I would like to set them as quickly as possible. Schedule them for tomorrow morning.” 

Ornstein turned around and was in the process of leaving when he heard Smough murmur: “Hmph, are you already leaving? Probably going to mope because you managed to lose two knights at one mission?”

Ornstein stopped, trembling. Under usual circumstances, he would have picked a fight with the executioner now. A comment like this would have made him boil. But today, it didn't. It just made him feel sad, made him feel like the failure he was. Smough noticed his silence too. 

“What? No quip at hand this time, captain?”, Smough snarked. 

Ornstein didn't turn around. Instead, he just said: “Don't. Please, don't.” He didn't wait for any answer and instead just stormed out of the dungeon, this horrible feeling of failure was stinging in his chest like a bad aftertaste. He couldn't deal with this right now, or more, he didn't want to deal with this feelings at the moment... Ornstein felt like it could be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I kinda managed to get Smough into the story already, but this was far before the two of them were the lovey dovey couple from my other work, so don't be too surprised at their much colder approach to each other.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein has to try and adjust to a life without the other knights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lately I try and write a few words every day, so I managed to get kind of a buffer on this story. To be honest, it turned out much longer than originally planned, but we are heading to the end soon.

Ornstein had scheduled silver knight training for the morning and while it occurred, he caught himself counting over his silver knights again and again. Even with the ones currently on duty he couldn't help but recognize how little of them were left. They had once been the largest army in Lordran, now Ornstein had the feeling that they would struggle when even a small nation would attack. 

Earlier, not only hundreds of silver knights would have stand in the way of any foe, they only had to make their way through the four knights of Gwyn, several generals like Havel, they could request help from Izalith whenever they needed, Ornstein's master, the banished prince had been a force to reckon with and then there still had been their Lord Gwyn, but now... Ornstein felt like pretty much the last rock between any army and Gwyndolin. The only comfort he had was that most other countries with their mostly human population struggled with the curse of the undead and hollows would never build an army. Still, this comfort wasn't a good one. 

After training was over and Ornstein was in the process of putting the training weapons away, Amira approached him. “Captain?”, she said and waited for his attention. 

“Amira, what is it?”, Ornstein asked, leaning himself on a spear. 

“We have the reports from New Londo. There seem to be at least ten dark wraiths at loose.” 

Ornstein gasped. “That is a lot. Even Artorias would have needed help for this number.”, he ground through clenched teeth. “But.”, he sighed, braced himself for saying it out aloud, “Because Artorias isn't here anymore, I will lead a platoon to face them, I guess 25 silver knights that accompany me should be enough. Please find some volunteers. We will move out in two days.” 

“Very well, captain.”, Amira bowed to him and left, leaving Ornstein alone with this thoughts. Fighting Dark Wraithes... that had always been Artorias duty. The wolf knight mostly had took the fight upon himself, only taking Sif with him. Ornstein could safely say that he didn't had much experience fending off this foe. Now he wished he had asked Artorias a bit more about the creatures of the dark he hunted, but now it was too late. He just had to do his best, like always. By the lord's sake, Ornstein was used to fend off dragons, he probably would be able to kill a few scattered creatures of the dark. 

_It was a creature of the dark who killed your friend, you know._ A tiny voice in the back of his head whispered. _Stop it._ Ornstein thought to himself. _This beast was something else... this beast can't be compared to some humans harnessing the power of the dark for themselves._ But in the back of his mind he wasn't too sure if not each and every one of these so called dark wraithes would be able to turn into a beast like the one he had seen in the Abyss? Which plagued his dreams? 

“Keep it together.”, Ornstein murmured to himself while he swept the floor of the trainings ground with a broom. “They need you as their leader, stop doubting everything...” 

After he was done cleaning, it was time for lunch, but Ornstein's stomach didn't felt like it was up to the task. Instead, he decided to start his patrol early and made a beeline for the market place. Luckily, it seemed to be a quiet day. Just like a lot of the houses in the city were abandoned, a lot of the booths at the market stayed empty too. A particular one was still there though and Ornstein stopped at it, after making sure he had some coins on him. He bought some dried fish treats from the booth and decided to steer his patrol into the direction of where he had seen the cat in the night, when he heard the voice of a woman call out to him.

“Sir Ornstein? I haven't seen you in a while.”, she said. 

Ornstein turned around and his heart dropped into his leggings when he saw the woman who spoke. The one he usually had called the cookie woman or more, one of her descendants, probably her great grand daughter. He walked over to her. 

“I have been out on a mission for a few days.”, he said. What was the name of her again? Stellaris? Ornstein didn't remember, names had always been Artorias strong point, but it felt right enough. 

“But not alone, right?”, Stellaris asked. “I haven't seen Sir Artorias either these last few days. Even a bit longer than you.” She smiled at him. “He surely needs some new ingredients for his recipes by now, I wanted to make him a good price. Maybe you could tell him once you see him?”

Ornstein sighed. It was better he was getting this over with now. “Artorias won't come back.”, he said. “He has... fallen in battle.” 

Ornstein could see how Stellaris smile fell and she clasped a hand in front of her mouth in horror, tears welling up in her eyes. “But, why, how could this?”, she murmured. Ornstein stayed there in silence, unable to say anything, when the woman managed to get a hold on herself, swallowed down her tears and said: “Please tell me he at least died an honourable death, Sir Ornstein.”

Ornstein didn't knew it was possible but his heart fell even further down his leggings and he was incredibly glad that he hadn't eaten anything, when he opened his mouth and said: “He died as a hero, saved a country from the tormenting of a vile abyss beast.” In only a few days this lie had started to come so easily over his lips. But at least it seemed to help, he could see how Stellaris face brightened up. 

“It is what he deserved.”, she said, but then stared at her wares, face dark. “I guess that means we will never taste Artorias' cookies again...”

Ornstein didn't say anything, instead he just stayed there at this booth, where it felt like time had stopped for the moment. After a good while he forced himself to move again. 

“I should really continue my patrol.”, he said. 

Stellaris looked at him with a stern face and opened her mouth to say: “Sir Ornstein, thanks for telling me the truth.” 

This was too much for him. Clutching the bag with the treats, Ornstein basically stormed off the market place, only stopping when he couldn't hear the noises of it anymore, looking around if anyone was near, taking a few steps into a side road and there he broke down, falling on his knees, shivering, awful pain in his stomach, it pretty much felt like someone had kicked him into his guts. 

“Keep it together.”, he murmured to himself, spear clutched in his right hand, bag with fish treats in his left hand. “Keep it together, together, together...”, he continued his chant. He could consider himself lucky that he was wearing his gauntlets or otherwise he would have hurt his hands so tight he was clutching around his spear and the bag. It took Ornstein a good few minutes before the breakdown ended. He dearly hoped nobody had seen him like this. As he got up, he realized how cramped his hands were and groaned a bit as he stretched and popped his fingers. Ornstein remembered this side road as the one where he had seen the cat in the night and went looking for it. It didn't took him long to spot the feline and as usual, it wasn't friendly towards him and he got hissed at right away. 

“I don't intent any harm.”, Ornstein muttered in a low voice and got on his knees, full aware that he still was awfully huge like this. He wasn't Artorias so he didn't expect that the cat would take the food out of his hands and he also didn't want it to do that, so he opened the bag and just tossed a fish treat at the ground, waiting. 

It didn't took the little animal long to come sneaking in the direction of the treat, wiggling flat on the ground like a snake, sniffing, shooting forward to get the treat and retreating right away. Ornstein waited a few minutes for the animal to return and when it did, it had two other cats in tow. The one he would call the leader was white as snow, another one was black with white socks and the third had red tiger stripes. Ornstein counted three treats from the bag and tossed them in front of him. 

Ornstein had expected the snowy one to come get it first, but to his surprise, the striped one was the bravest of them and got the first fish treat right away, retreating once it had its prey. The snowy one followed and the one with the socks was the last. Although all cats had food now, they stayed in plain sight munching on their treats. Ornstein threw them another round. 

This continued until the bag was empty. At the end of the feeding session the red striped cat had become comfortable enough to lay down at his feet and purr and Ornstein had named the cats Snowy, Socks and Tiger in his mind, cursing himself for being uncreative with names and for Artorias ghost apparently getting into him, he didn't even like cats. At last these ones had stopped hissing at him. He decided to bring them some more treats the next time he would go on patrol. 

The rest of Ornstein's patrol went almost uneventful, but he managed to catch at least one thief and put them into the care of the silver knights before retreating to the cathedral, where the paperwork was waiting.   
___

“C...Captain?”, Ornstein heard a voice and felt a nudge, slowly opening his eyes, groaning at his pained neck. 

“What is the matter?”, he asked, half confused. He could have sworn he had been with Artorias the last hour, when he noticed the silver knight in front of him and the paperwork and realized that his sleepless night finally had caught up on him and that Sira just had saved him from another nightmare. 

“I am sorry, Sira, I haven't slept well last night.”, Ornstein said truthfully, but he also felt how his face blushed. How embarrassing, falling asleep like this in front of his knight. Who probably had to debate half an hour with herself if she should wake him. 

“Are... are you sure you are feeling alright, Captain?”, Sira asked. “I mean, if... if you are sick, you sh.. should probably rest...” 

“I appreciate your concern, but I am fine.”, Ornstein said, but didn't force a smile this time. “Just tired. I will try not to fall asleep anymore. Let us tackle the paperwork until dinner is ready, alright?” 

Sira nodded but Ornstein felt like she wasn't completely convinced. He couldn't help it, the paperwork had to be done one way or another and Ornstein cursed himself once more for having procrastinated it for so long. At this rate, they would be stuck another week at it. So he sighed in relief when the servants called for dinner and they could quit the paperwork for the day. 

“Tomorrow to the same hour.”, Ornstein said to Sira and the silver knight nodded and bowed, taking a stack of the finished paperwork with her. Ornstein nodded back at her and took a stack of his own, throwing one last gaze at the leftover paperwork, groaning internally. 

After dinner Ornstein would normally retreat in his room after he had made the evening roll call for the silver knights, but he still didn't feel like he wanted to go back into this place, so he aimlessly wandered the cathedral, sometimes entering an unused room and searching through it, even though there hadn't been any assassins in years now. Now that Ciaran was gone not even the lord's blades were there anymore, Ornstein guessed the one he had encountered had told the others and they all had gone on their own way. After an hour of aimless wandering Ornstein found himself in the silver knights quarters. This sparked memories... it had been so long since he had stayed here himself as a fresh silver knight, having some trouble adjusting to the new life. He stopped in front of a particular door. 

“Captain, is something wrong?” Ornstein recognized the voice, Herman, the silver knight on guard when he had returned from Oolacile. 

“Everything is fine, just reminiscing.”, Ornstein answered, still staring at the door. 

“Is there a tale to tell about this door?”, Herman asked. Ornstein turned his head to look at him and realized that Jervis was there too, apparently Herman had took the younger silver knight under his wing. 

“This was the place where I first have met Artorias.”, Ornstein started to tell. 

Two hours later Ornstein had told a whole lot of Artorias' anecdotes not only to Herman and Jervis but to a good bunch of other silver knights who had joined them. At one point someone had brought some wine and Ornstein had let himself talked into drinking a glass too, which had been a mistake, cause his lack of sleep and his intolerance of alcohol made him very tipsy. So when he noticed how late it already had gotten and how tired he felt, he excused himself to retreat to his room. After all, he had to get up early the next day and attend the executions. And this was usually a pretty gruesome sight, so he should make sure to sleep any tipsiness away. 

After Ornstein had made himself ready for bed, he laid down in it, pulled the blankets over himself, checked if his comfort pillow was in place and managed to fall asleep in record time.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The executions are taken care off. Ornstein has a talk with Gwyndolin. The mission in New Londo gets tackled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had the feeling the latest chapters felt a bit stagnant, so I decided to put the rest until a certain plot point into one giant chapter, so that is why we have this wall of text now! I apologize because I mostly have kept the chapters at a length of around 3k words, having such a massive chunk feels weird, but I was starting to dislike my own story and thus just have to get it out like this. I hope it is still readable enough and doesn't feel too stuffed, but I have seen several authors using massive chunk chapters like that where several plot points got tackled, so I think I should be fine.

Another night, another nightmare, another meal landed in the chamber pot. At least this time Ornstein had managed to go back to sleep, but it had took him some time. He started to worry about his constant vomiting. He even felt like he lost weight, no wonder with how little food he kept down lately. Even this morning he had renounced his breakfast, even though it was for a good reason. 

Because right at the moment, he was overseeing the executions that Smough handled. The silver knights had been right, there had been quite a few prisoners awaiting the death sentence. Most of them had hidden Undead which went hollow and wrecked havoc. Ornstein looked at the next prisoner which was led in front of the executioner, he noticed them glaring in his direction, nothing but grief and hatred in their eyes and Ornstein averted his gaze, maybe a bit too quickly. He couldn't even blame them for it... there still wasn't any signs of a cure for the undead curse and all they could do was carrying the Undead away, as some sort of damage control... 

Ornstein watched as the giant hammer, already caked in blood, came down on the prisoner and more blood splatted in all directions. He spotted a few spectators, but far less as there had been earlier. No wonder with the state the city was in, he felt like barely anyone was left. Ornstein started to feel a bit queasy. He wasn't sure if it came from the sight of the gruesome deaths, from the fact that he hadn't eaten or because of the nightmares he had faced lately... For now, all Ornstein could do was continue his duty as a knight of Gwyn and he nodded when the last victim was carried away so that the next one could be taken care of. Internally, Ornstein couldn't help but feel disgusted. Not because of the bodies, Ornstein was used to see them, but because he perfectly knew what the executioner was going to do with them. Needless to say, Ornstein was very glad when the executions were over. And thankfully no one of them dissolved into dust, a sign of being cursed with the dark sign. Once the last prisoner had been taken care off, the crowd started to disperse and Smough started to clean his hammer. Orstein went over to him to thank him for his duties, like usual.

“It isn't easy seeing that look in their eyes, what?”, the executioner lowly growled. 

Ornstein winced at this statement. Had he noticed his discomfort about that one prisoner's glare? 

“Just... tell me when more executions have to be taken care off.”, Ornstein mumbled as an answer, thoroughly trying to avoid the subject, expecting to fall victim of one of the executioner's snarls, but instead, Smough just nodded to him and continued his work. Slightly confused, but glad that he didn't had to deal with Smough, Ornstein retreated back into the cathedral. He had gotten some blood on his armour and wanted to clean it up.

On his way to the cathedral well, Ornstein ran into Amira who carried a whole bunch of documents.

“Captain, these are the applications for the open silver knight positions. Could you take a look and set a date when they could come over for testing?”, she asked. 

Ornstein internally groaned. Even more paperwork and he wasn't even done with the current batch. “Just get it into the conference room, I will take a look once I have time.”, he said. “Have you the platoon ready for the New Londo mission?” 

“Almost. We just need a few more and then we are ready to set out. You can take a look at them after dinner.” 

“Remind me to take a look then.” 

“Very well, captain.”, Amira was in the process of bowing, remembered that she was wearing several document and Ornstein just waved her through, he didn't need any more formalities. He watched her vanish behind a corner and continued his journey to the cathedral well. He planned to meet with Gwyndolin later and surely didn't want to have blood on his armour for this.

After Ornstein had cleaned up his armour, he still had some time until his meeting with Gwyndolin. He decided to take a look at the documents that Amira had brought and headed for the conference room. On his way there, Terrick stopped him. 

“Captain, the executions have been already effective. Several people have come and sold out Undead.”, he said.

“Excellent. Send them off to the Asylum.”, Ornstein said. 

“We are trying to take care of this, but we are seriously understaffed. And with a whole lot of us having a mission in New Londo tomorrow, there aren't enough left to fulfil our guard and patrol duties. I am afraid we have to find a way to contain them until we can send them off.” 

Ornstein sighed. “I would suggest to just imprison them in the dungeon, but they could simply kill themselves and be free to vanish once they appear at the bonfire. We pretty much had to force them to bind themselves to the nearest bonfire and even then, it would have to be guarded and there is a great possibility that they would have to be captured again and again... I think I have to talk about Gwyndolin with this. Have you already captured some Undead?” Ornstein crossed his arms and cocked his head. 

“Not yet, captain. The information just came to us recently, we didn't had time to take action.”, Terrick answered. 

“Don't do anything until we have figured something out.”, Ornstein said. “Go help Amira out with preparing everything for tomorrow, if you need me, I am in the conference room.” 

Ornstein saw how Terrick bowed to him and went off to complete the task he just had assigned to him. Ornstein managed to arrive at the conference room and quickly found the new documents. When Amira had carried them, they had looked like a lot, but now that he had them in front of him, he realized that not more than 10 people had actually applied. 

“That isn't near enough to fill the gaps.”, Ornstein murmured to himself. What had happened to Anor Londo? Once they had been in the thousands. One of the most fearsome and fierce army in Lordran. Now they were reduced to a mere hundred knights and one captain. Any larger army would have no trouble overthrowing them now, but at least they still were guarded by Sen's Fortress, a death trap which only very brave and stupid ones would dare to cross with an entire army. The town was so high up on the mountains, that another way was almost impossible, they probably had to come from air. Ornstein allowed himself to relax, cause an invasion would probably not happen. Also, with so many humans turning undead and hollowing out, he felt that the focus of the people were on another problems than trying to seize a city that had lost his glow.

Ornstein sighed. There was nothing he could do to change this now. But he had swore an oath and he would protect this city to his dying breath. After Ornstein had scanned all the documents he found the applicants to be suited and collected the applications. He could bring them with him to Gwyndolin right away, but maybe he should grab something to eat first. His very empty stomach had made it clear that it didn't like this state anymore, so Ornstein ventured to the mess hall to grab some lunch before meeting up with Gwyndolin.

Ornstein swallowed the last of the filled bread he had gotten for lunch before shouting out to Gwyndolin to lift the illusion that hid the entrance of the Dark Moon Tomb. At the end of the hallway, he found Gwyndolin sitting on a table, pouring tea in two provided cups, gesturing for Ornstein to sit down, which he promptly did, taking the cup of tea and managing to burn his tongue. 

“Careful, the tea is still hot.”, Gwyndolin said. 

“Thanks, I figured.”, Ornstein answered. 

“Do you need some ice for the swelling?”

“I am fine. I had worse burns than this.” In the back of his mind Ornstein knew though that the burn would start to swell and probably make him feel uncomfortable for a day or two. He still didn't feel like he should treat a minor burn like this, it would go away on its own. 

“So how did the executions went?” Gwyndolin took their own tea cup into both hands, but didn't drank from it. They were often sitting like this. Ornstein suspected that they liked the warmth of the tea, they were one to freeze easily. His master had once told them that Gwyndolin usually slept huddled in three blankets. 

“Everything went smoothly.”, Ornstein said, staring into his own teacup, suddenly having the urge to swirl the liquid around. But he didn't need burned fingers too, so he detached his gaze from the beverage to look Gwyndolin into the eyes, or more, into their crown which covered their eyes. “Actually, Terrick told me that quite a few people have sold out positions of Undead now. Problem is, that we barely have enough staff left to escort them all to the Asylum and hoarding them in the dungeons proves to be difficult, because of their nature they could escape via killing themselves and appearing at the nearest bonfire and we can't guard them day and night, especially not with the few forces left here, cause I am taking a good quarter of them to New Londo tomorrow.” 

After Ornstein had finished his report, the tea felt cooled off enough and he took another sip, but he could hardly enjoy it with the pain in his burned tongue. Gwyndolin seemed to ponder. 

“We surely need to get a hold of them before they have a chance to turn hollow...”, they said. “I know it is risky, but I think we could ask Seath to contain them in the archives. Apparently, he found a method to force Undead to a specific bonfire and it happens that he build a cell around it.” 

Ornstein nearly spat out his drink when Gwyndolin mentioned the paledrake. “Gwyndolin, are you sure? Since our lord left, he hasn't been the same anymore. I mean, it is not like I liked him in the first place, but do you really want to give several Undead into his care? I don't want to imagine what he plans doing with them...”

“I know that Seath has been absorbed into his research ever since my father left... but he is still our ally and should perform any orders, I, the Dark Sun, last born of Gwyn, will give him.” Gwyndolin crossed their arms and Ornstein had the feeling one of their snakes peaked over the table. “You mentioned going to New Londo? I guess because of the dark wraith thread?”

Ornstein nodded. “Yes, there have been sightings of at least 10 of them reported. Normally Artorias had taken care of them, but without his great sword and without his knowledge to fight this enemy, I found it better to take a platoon with me to ensure victory.” 

“New Londo walks a dangerous path.”, Gwyndolin mused. “If we don't pay attention, they may become a second Oolacile.”

Ornstein froze when he heard this. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes. There are some sealers stationed in New Londo, but they are only there to observe. … Or take action when the situation gets out of hand.” 

“Me and my silver knights will do our best to not make this happen.”, Ornstein didn't like at all what Gwyndolin seemed to imply. 

“Of course, I have the utmost trust in you and your forces.” Gwyndolin took a sip of their tea, put the cup down and then smiled at Ornstein. “So, how have you been lately?”

Ornstein was a bit put off by the sudden change of tone, he still was thinking about what Gwyndolin had implied. He shuddered about the thought of New Londo spawning a monster like the one he had seen in Oolacile, the one which corrupted Artorias and which kept doing it in his dreams. He just needed to give this best tomorrow. He and his silver knights would rid New Londo of the dark wraithes. He wouldn't let a catastrophe like this happen anymore. 

Prompted by Gwyndolin's question, Ornstein stared in his tea. He had nightmares, was constantly vomiting lately and had trouble falling back asleep, even started to lose weight and feeling queasy was the norm for him nowadays and he wanted to groan only thinking about the paperwork that awaited him.

This surely wasn't stuff he should burden Gwyndolin with. This was his own package to carry. So he smiled back at them and said: “I am fine, don't worry about me.”

_____________________

After Ornstein had left the Dark Moon Tomb, he noticed that he had completely forgotten to tell Gwyndolin about the new silver knights applications and ran back to them to talk about it. They decided to test the new applicants as soon as Ornstein would return from Anor Londo. The mishap did cost Ornstein a good chunk of time though and he nearly came to late for the paperwork, where Sira already was waiting for him. 

They spent on the paperwork until dinner was ready. Ornstein didn't had much of an appetite. He feared that the food simply would come out again. But he needed his strength, he had a mission the next day. Amira and Terrick had the platoon ready and he wanted to instruct them after dinner. He also had told them that either Amira or Terrick should stay behind, they both had wanted to come, but he needed someone to substitute for him and these two never had failed him. Ornstein was pretty sure that they were figuring it out via some game right now. 

It didn't help, Ornstein eventually had to get to the mess hall. He had send Sira off already and had stayed a bit longer, as if he needed to scrap together the courage to actually eat anything. When he arrived, a large amount of silver knights had already left the mess hall. Ornstein was scavenging for the leftover food, trying to find something as stomach friendly as possible. He then sat down on the table for the knights of Gwyn like usual, staring at his food a good while before taking up his silverware to eat. He wasn't even aware that Terrick had approached him. 

“Captain? We just wanted to offer that you can eat with us.”, he said and pointed to a table where Ornstein could spot Amira, Herman and Jervis. He was a bit taken aback by this offer and had to do his best to swallow his food and not let his mouth stay agape, did he really look that lonely that his silver knights felt the need to invite him over? On the other hand, it was a good opportunity to talk with them about the mission the next day. 

“Thank you, Terrick, I kindly accept your offer.”, Ornstein said with the best smile he could muster, took his bowl and switched tables. He felt strange doing this though. He had been so used to always eat with Ciaran and Artorias (and Gough when he still had been around) and he started to feel incredibly lonely, even though he was in company. Despite his plan talking about the mission, Ornstein didn't feel like he was able to talk much right now, quietly ate his food and mostly listened to the bantering of the silver knight, who occasionally would ask him a question which he would answer in short sentences. Still, after he had finished his meal, he excused himself and retreated, waiting at the silver knight assembly point for the evening roll call. 

After the roll call Ornstein did had some time to inspect the platoon. Amira and Terrick had put enough thought into it and selected mostly the most experienced silver knights, but also balanced them out with some younger ones, the learning experience would surely be good for them. Amira had apparently won and so Terrick was the one who was left behind and was put into charge by Ornstein. 

After the roll call Ornstein was wandering through the cathedral, not really knowing where to head. He had to admit, the task before him worried him a little bit. New Londo always had been Artorias duty and Ornstein asked himself if he could handle it as gracefully as his late friend. Granted, Ornstein had fought many duels and many foes and perfectly knew how to stand his ground against a foe his size, or often they had been a bit smaller, but he still was more of an expert for slaying dragons and his fighting style showed it. Artorias fighting style had always felt more versatile. Before Ornstein had realized it, he had stopped in front of Artorias' room. 

Ornstein stared at the door. Why had his feet brought him here? It was not like he could ask Artorias for advice. Heck, if he had been here Ornstein wouldn't need to lead a platoon against the dark wraiths in New Londo. But... maybe Artorias had written down some notes that could help them with their foe? Ornstein extended his hand to push the door handle, but... after what felt like a tiny eternity, he put his hand down again. Why should Artorias even keep notes in his room about a duty he performed so often that it must have felt like knowing the back of his hand? Ornstein suddenly felt really stupid for coming there. He stared at the door one last time and then turned around to leave. 

Ornstein had ended the day with taking a bath and packing a few things for the mission tomorrow before laying down in his bed, feeling particular uneasy. He feared another nightmare, he feared that he would have to vomit again. 

_Come on, you need to sleep, keep it together._ , he thought to himself. _Just close your eyes and go to sleep, you need the energy._ And Ornstein tried, he tried so hard to just drift off to sleep but he was feeling wide awake. He opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling of his room once they adjusted to the dark. 

He wondered if he couldn't sleep because he was uneasy about the mission the next day? Or if it was more his fear of another nightmare and the following discomfort of having to vomit? Even thinking about it made him queasy. Ornstein put a hand on his upset stomach to rub it, trying to calm it down. He didn't need to hurl even without a nightmare but only his own thoughts. He just wanted to fell asleep and not be waken by another nightmare and he wanted to keep his food in him, his throat had started to feel sore from vomiting so frequently lately. So, Ornstein tried to fall asleep. By trying to do everything, like switching positions, cuddle with his comfort pillow, trying to empty his mind, trying to think about completely senseless stuff, even drawing a picture once, hoping that the action would make him tired, but nothing worked. Being painfully aware of the burned tongue didn't help either and Ornstein regretted not having accepted some ice to prevent swelling. Eventually Ornstein accepted his fate. At least he would be spared from nightmares which comforted him a tiny little bit. He would just lay in bed with closed eyes and wait until the sun would rise. It would be time in two more hours, no use to fall asleep now anyway. 

________________

Ornstein awoke by a frantic knock on the door and the voice of Amira: “Captain? We have waited for you at roll call for 20 minutes now! We wanted to head to New Londo, remember? Captain, are you even there?” 

It took Ornstein a short while to process everything... but then he was up in an instant. “Shit, I overslept!”, he blurted out, voice a bit muffled from the swollen tongue. He must have fallen asleep at last and being woken far too early like this wasn't something his body approved of, so he groaned a bit while trying to shake of the weariness. “Give me half an hour, Amira, I will be there as soon as possible.”, he shouted, getting up and snatching his clothes right away to get dressed. They were supposed to leave to New Londo after roll call, how could he have overslept the very mission he had assigned to himself? 

“Captain, are you sure you feel alright?”, Amira asked from outside the door. “Maybe we should postpone this mission?”

“I am fine, don't worry, we can carry this out.”, Ornstein answered. “I will be there shortly, tell the silver knights they don't have to wait for me, they shall attend to their duties like usual.”

“As you wish, captain.”, Amira said and Ornstein could hear her footsteps trudging away. 

Ornstein groaned internally when he straightened his hair and put it into a ponytail with a hair band he snatched from his night stand, then grabbing for the pieces of his armour. He needed to get ready quick now. At last he had taken care of taking a bath the day prior so he should just grab some breakfast really quick. Ornstein put his helmet on, grabbed his spear and the travel bag he had prepared and stormed off into the direction of the kitchen, the mess hall surely was cleaned out by now. He managed to grab a bit of food, gobbled it down far too quickly which nearly made him choke on it and he feared he needed to vomit it out right again, but to his relief after the coughing fit was over, the nausea subdued. He allowed himself a few more minutes to actually get ready before meeting up with the silver knights in front of the cathedral. He had to stifle a yawn at the way, it would have felt easier if his night would actually have been sleepless. Now he felt so very tired. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the weariness and stepped outside into the bright sunlight of Anor Londo, where several winged helmets turned into his direction, spears, swords and shield in hand. 

“So, we have a mission in New Londo today. We shall get rid of the Dark Wraiths who plague this place.”, Ornstein's voice boomed over the group. “We will get down the mountain with the help of the bat wing demons, the rest of the way we will go by foot, New Londo isn't that far away.”

The silver knights bowed to him and one by one they got carried away by the bat wing demons until they had reached the foot of the mountain. The only other way would have been Sen's Fortress and until they all had made it through it, the day would have been over and they probably had lost at least one or two of their platoon. Nobody actually had figured out how to switch off the mechanics at this place and the giants assigned to it would carry out their duty to the very end, at least Ornstein felt like they would still be there, shoving rocks or throwing bombs when the end of time would come. 

As soon as the last silver knight had been placed on the ground, Ornstein raised a hand, signalling for them to follow and they were off to New Londo. On the way, nothing exciting happened and it felt hard for Ornstein to stifle his yawns. Also, the nearer they got to New Londo, the more Ornstein's stomach seemed to turn around.

_Damnit, keep it together. What are you afraid of? You can handle a few creatures of the dark. You aren't even alone in this. Stop being so NERVOUS._ , Ornstein's thought swirled in his head, again and again. Did his knees start shaking? He couldn't afford a breakdown, not here, not like this, he had a mission to carry out, his silver knights depended on him, he couldn't break down in front of them. He tried to even out his breath, to calm down, when he heard Amira's voice next to him.

“Captain? Are you sure you can do this? If you are feeling to sick you should maybe stay behind and get some rest?”

“I am fine, Amira, but I appreciate your concern.”, Ornstein answered. How could he say to her that he was just nervous without any reason? But her question wasn't good. His composure must have shown cracks if she could see that he wasn't feeling well. 

When they finally had reached New Londo, Ornstein's queasiness had turned into full blown nausea and he regretted having breakfast and even more that he had wolfed it down so quickly due to him oversleeping. He took a few deep breathes in an attempt to call himself down while his knights looked over New Londo. 

New Londo was a town Lord Gwyn had gifted to the so called four kings, human kings that had assisted in the dragon war with their soul magic. As reward, the land had been assigned to them and they build their kingdom for themselves and their people. It was a placid sight, the town was built into the valley, up above a dam was secured so that it wouldn't flood. Most of the time, the city hadn't give reason for trouble at all, until the beings named Dark Wraith had appeared, hooded warriors with skeletal masks, knowing to suck the humanity out of their victims. Ornstein shuddered at the thought of getting hit with an attack like that. It made his nausea even worse...

“Captain? Are we moving out?”, Amira asked, clearly concerned about his long silence. Ornstein, who felt that he couldn't kept his nausea at bay anymore, uttered “Just a moment...” and hastily vanished behind a convenient rock to lift his visor and spat out his breakfast. 

“That started well...”, he muttered to himself and turned around to return to his silver knights, only to see Amira standing behind the rock, spear kept low with both hands around it, her gaze to the ground. Ornstein froze for a very brief moment before regaining his composure. “Amira, sorry to make you wait. Let's form groups to head out now.”, he said. He started to walk towards the platoon, but Amira didn't follow. Instead, she raised her voice.

“Captain, I have decided to always trust your judgement. You are far more experienced than any of us and usually you led us to victory on any mission. But now I can't help but be worried. First you overslept, on the way here I am sure I saw you shivering and now vomiting? You should have told me that you are sick!” 

Ornstein clearly couldn't see Amira's face under the helmet, but from her tone she was clearly upset with him. And he felt like he was in trouble now. How should he explain to her that wasn't actually sick, just a bit stressed out? But he had to say something, so he opened his mouth to say: “I am sorry, Amira. But I assure you, I am not sick, I just have felt stressed out a bit lately. I actually feel better now, I assure you, I am able to fight.” 

Ornstein felt Amira's gaze on him through the t-shaped visor of her helmet, but she turned around and said: “Fine, I will trust you on this. But I would advise that you see a physician about this. If a little stress is giving you symptoms like this, it may be a bit more concerning.” She stomped away and Ornstein joined her to organize the platoon into groups, they were supposed to roam the city in groups of three to four people and engage any Dark Wraith in battle on sight. 

Ornstein wanted to go alone but the way Amira was looming behind him, hands at her hips, he knew he didn't had a choice and so he decided to partner up with Herman and Jervis. Amira would make a fine general, Ornstein thought to himself. If she had been around for the dragon war, she surely would have been assigned to lead her own troops. But alas, the dragon war was long over and Ornstein watched Amira partner up with two silver knights of her choice before turning around to his team, acknowledging them with a silent nod. 

The next task was roaming the streets and alleys of the city, searching for their prey. The citizens had hopefully been warned to stay inside on this day or leave the town completely until their hunt was over. Ornstein knew he was supposed to keep a vigilant eye open for any dark wraith movements, but his tiredness crept up on him and he was more occipied with trying to stifle his yawns and keeping his eyes open than actually scanning the area. So for him, it came as a surprise, when the prey turned into the hunter and in the flash of a second, two swords clashed against each other with a loud clink, emitting sparks. 

“Captain, are you alright?”, Herman shouted, in a struggle keeping the Dark Wraith at bay with his sword. Ornstein blinked once, twice, before realizing the situation, just as the Dark Wraith formed a cloud of dark magic to inflict upon Herman. With lightning speed, Ornstein drew his spear and pierced it right through the side of the dark wraith, which shuddered a bit before collapsing to the ground, the dark magic vanishing, blood was seeping from the wound, which turned into a stream when Ornstein ripped out the spear from the body. 

“Are you alright, Herman?”, he asked in return. “I am sorry that I missed this attack. I have been... inattentive.” Ornstein could see how Jervis and Herman shared a look with each other. He wondered what they were thinking, their captain, usually at the front of every battlefield and able to analyse a situation and acted for their favour in mere seconds, nearly had become victim to a sword strike from some dark creature. He felt so embarrassed at that that he could feel the heat in his face, surely he was turning red under his helmet. 

“I am fine, thanks to your quick turn of action, captain.”, Herman said. “But we shouldn't let our guard down, we must make sure there aren't anymore foes around.” 

“Herman is right.”, Ornstein confirmed. “We have notes that at least ten Dark Wraiths are roaming the city and it could be more. Maybe this one wasn't alone.” He pointed on the corpse only to see that merely a puddle of blood remained. 

“Uh, where is the body?”, Jervis asked. “They were clearly dead, or at least gravely hurt... They couldn't just stand around and walk away. At least not very far with an injury like that.” 

Ornstein felt sweat form on his forehead. Jervis was right, the body couldn't just have gotten up and walked away with an injury like that. Slowly he scanned their surroundings, watching out for some sign of the Dark Wraith, but they were nowhere to be found. Also, if they would have dragged themselves away, a trail of blood would have formed, but it remained as this puddle. 

“No, that is bad.”, Ornstein gasped. “They are undead.”

Ornstein heard Herman and Jervis gasp too. As if they hadn't enough trouble with regular people being undead, skilled warriors like the Dark Wraiths as Undead were a whole new mess to deal with. 

They didn't had time to think up a plan, cause from the corner of his eye Ornstein saw another Dark Wraith attacking. He twirled around and caught the slash with his spear, swiftly moving out of the way when a second sword strike was attempted and used the force of his spear to make his foe flying, they landed with a sick thud and crack on the ground and Ornstein pointed his spear to their chest, putting his boot on the body to pin them down. He could hear the clash of metal behind him, implying that Herman and Jervis had been locked into their own battles. Shit, there was no time for interrogating, especially when he saw that his foe prepared the dark magic around their left hand. Ornstein wasn't keen on finding out how it felt to be hit by it and so he buried his spear into the chest of the Dark Wraith until they stopped moving and turned around to help out his companions. 

To his surprise and relief, he didn't need to intervene, Herman as the veteran he was, handled his foe with grace and while Jervis was far more inexperienced, Ornstein's training showed in him and while he was a lot more cautious and using his shield to block a lot more before striking, the younger silver knight managed to finish off his foe too. As it fell down on the ground, Ornstein saw that Herman's foe started to dissolve and when he turned around to look at his own kill, they already had disintegrated. 

“We have to look for the others and see if they face the same problem.”, Ornstein ordered his knights. “If every Dark Wraith is cursed with the dark sign, their forces will never end. Even worse, when they hollow by being killed too much, they could wreak absolute havoc in this city.”

“So what are we doing now?”, Jervis asked once they were on their way to find another group. “When another one attacks, I mean.”, he added. 

“For now, we can't do anything else than kill them. Maybe we are in luck and not everyone of them has been cursed with the dark sign. The other solution, capturing them and sending them off the asylum proves to be difficult, we didn't even had enough forces to capture the regular Undead. And skilled warriors like this in the Asylum is leaving a bad taste in my mouth.”, Ornstein answered, chewing on his lip. 

The three knights walked in silence, spared from another ambush until they ran into Amira which had grouped up with two other spear silver knights. As Amira spotted Ornstein, she waved to him, saying: “Captain, it's good that I see you, it appears we have a problem.” 

“So.”, Ornstein said, crossing the distance to her in a few steps, “I assume that you have engaged in battle already, judging by the blood on your spear.”, he pointed on it. “And I also assume that the corpses vanished shortly after.” 

Amira cursed. “Damn, so yours were undead too. I was hoping that only these few would have been cursed with the dark sign. What shall we do now, Captain? When they can't die we would be here hunting them all day and still would achieve nothing. Shall we try and capture them instead?”

Ornstein shook his head. “First, I want to make sure that they really all are cursed with the dark sign.”, he said. “Let's search out the other groups and ask them about their experience first. If they have the same experience as we had, tell them to wait outside of the city.”, he ordered. Amira and her companions nodded and bowed, setting off. Ornstein looked at his own companions. “We are going to do the same. And be on the watch-out for any further attacks.” 

After a good time of wandering, talking with the silver knights groups they encountered and having to fend off any Dark Wraith trying to break their formation, it became disheartening. Each and every group had the same experience and each and every foe they had slain disappeared after death. And from the numbers the silver knights told they had fought, Ornstein was under the assumption that it were far more than the originally ten reported Dark Wraiths. Some of his knights even had managed to get injured and he had ordered them to treat their injuries and retreat immediately. 

Now he was returning to their collection point and wasn't surprised to pretty much see his entire platoon standing there. He could see Amira standing a bit to the side, head hanging low as in defeat, holding her spear in a perfectly straight line balanced from the ground. Ornstein build himself up in front of his platoon and said in a loud, but calm voice, at least he hoped he sounded calm: “So, because you are all here, it is save to assume that the Dark Wraiths all have been cursed with the dark sign. This means, simply slaying them won't do any good. Are there any suggestions how we could tackle this dilemma?”

He heard the silver knights murmur with each other. After a while, one of them spoke up: “They can only come back at a bonfire, right? What if we would get rid of it?” 

“You can't just snuff out a bonfire without getting rid of its fire keeper.”, Ornstein answered. “Besides, there is no proof that Undead can't show up at snuffed out bonfires. I think it makes them just unable to use it to heal themselves...”, he added. 

“They are Undead, so the right thing would be to capture them and bring them to the asylum, right?”, another one added in. 

“An excellent point, but you all have seen how skilled this warriors were. Several of you got injured. We would probably need several man to pin them down long enough to actually tie them up and even then it wouldn't surprise me if they could break out of it. And warriors like this in the asylum leave a bad taste in my mouth, they could lead a revolt.”, Ornstein answered, more murmuring the last part, as if talking to himself. 

“So how shall we handle this situation, captain?”, Herman asked, Ornstein hadn't even noticed that he still had stand besides him. And Ornstein was at a loss for words. For once, he didn't had a solution. They were seriously understaffed, didn't knew enough about the Undead curse and Ornstein got the looming feeling that New Londo could turn into a serious threat. Maybe Gwyndolin had been right after all. 

“As much as it pains me to say this, but I don't see another way as to retreat and find a solution to return on another day.”, he admitted. “We could hunt them all day and night without getting any results and even worse, we could quickening their hollowing process and I don't want to imagine one of them hollow.” 

Ornstein could hear his silver knights murmuring and discussing with each other again and he felt... bad. This felt like the first time he couldn't successfully complete a mission. Even Artorias probably would have had trouble with it, but Ornstein had the feeling his old friend would have found a solution. Or at least managed to ignite hope in his troops. Having to admit defeat left a very sour taste in his mouth. He waited for his silver knights to calm down and while some of them still spoke up and didn't want to give up, they could eventually be convinced to return to Anor Londo, especially regarding their injured companions.  
________________________

A few hours later they had arrived back at the cathedral and Ornstein sent the injured knights off to the infirmary. Next to him stood Amira and he could feel her glance on him through the t-shaped visor of her helmet, but he was able to convince her that he would visit the infirmary after reporting to Gwyndolin, which calmed her down. 

Now Ornstein was sitting in the dark moon tomb, this time politely refusing the tea, the tongue he had burned yesterday had stung the whole day and he didn't want to risk to burn it again. “...so we had to retreat cause with the dark wraiths having turned undead we could have fought the whole day and the whole night without showing any results.”, he finished his report. 

Gwyndolin took a deep sip of their tea cup and gently put it down on the table again. “I was fearing something like this could have happen.”, they murmured. “That is why I stationed the sealers at New Londo.” 

“You have mentioned it yesterday already.”, Ornstein said. “What made you so sure that a situation like this could have happened?”

“You have probably seen the magic attack of the dark wraiths.”, Gwyndolin started, head turned to the side, not looking at Ornstein at all. “This attack sucks out humanity, you know, these little black sprites. It is mostly found in humans, but we all have it in us, even us gods can't escape having a tiny bit of darkness in them.” 

“So why would they collect humanity? What even is the use of these things?”

“Well, I have the assumption that humanity could literally be what leads to form an abyss.”, Gwyndolin took another sip of their cup. “Haven't you seen it in Oolacile?”

Ornstein nodded and he had indeed seen stuff in that chasm that looked like humanity, just bigger and more... alive. 

“So do you think New Londo tries to form another abyss...?”, Ornstein's stomach churned at the thought. They didn't need another monster like the one he had seen in the chasm. 

“I have been worried about the four kings for a while now. They were a great help in the dragon war and also helped forming today's sorcery, and you know that my father granted them with a part of his lord soul granting them their long lives and gave them New Londo to rule over.” 

Ornstein nodded, he had been around when all of this had happened. “So you think the four kings have cut their bond with Anor Londo?”, he asked. “I am kinda surprised that you seem to be so informed about this matter though.”

Gwyndolin directed their gaze back at Ornstein. “Let's just say, an old friend of my father told me about some interesting things.”, they said. “So, you can probably guess that we can't let the four kings do what they want. It is a harsh decision, but I will tell the sealers to open the dam.” 

Ornstein was glad that he didn't had a drink or he would have surely choked. “But Gwyndolin, are you serious?”, he asked, disbelief in his eyes. “That would kill thousands of innocent citizens!” 

“You don't know how many of these innocent citizens have turned traitor already.”, Gwyndolin said, slamming their empty cup on the table. “Just because my father, my brother and my sister aren't there anymore, they think they can overthrow the sun? We have to show them who is in charge. I know it is hard, but as a leader, you have to take extreme measurements sometimes.” 

“Still, this feels like too much.”, Ornstein murmured, gaze downwards, he was staring at his hands nervously fidgeting with each other. 

“Do you have another solution, Ornstein? Didn't you retreat because you and your men couldn't do anything against the threat you went to obliterate?” 

Ornstein raised his head and looked at Gwyndolin, but then lowered it again, saying nothing. 

“I thought so. There is no need to discuss this matter any further. I am truly aware that you don't agree with me on this, Ornstein, so I would like you to leave now.” 

Ornstein got up and left the Dark Moon Tomb without saying another word. Gwyndolin was right, he didn't had a say in this matter. He was a knight and as a knight protecting lives was the first and foremost important thing to do, but he also had to be loyal to his master and currently Gwyndolin was his master and also, he couldn't deny that there was a threat coming off New Londo. He wasn't agreeing with Gwyndolin's solution at all, he wish there would be another solution, but as hard as he tried to think about it, he couldn't find anything. Flooding the area would prevent an abyss from spawning. It would also make the Dark Wraiths drown because of their heavy armour and with them being undead, they would die again and again and again, probably hollowing in the process, but with being several feet underwater, they wouldn't be able to harm anyone anymore. When Ornstein had returned to the cathedral the pain in his stomach had flared up and he thought about his promise to Amira to visit the infirmary. 

He was sure when he would describe his symptoms to the physician there, they would at least take him off his duties for several days because of sickness. He couldn't afford that. He needed to take care of the leftover paperwork, he needed to train the knights, he needed to take a look at the newly applied knights, the undead needed to be caught and sent off to the asylum, the demon wandering from Lost Izalith needed to be taken care off and there was still the incident with the missing and rogue black knights. Ornstein sighed and retreated to his room, whispering an apology to Amira under his breath. He just couldn't afford to be sick right now.  
___________________

Another week passed and Ornstein literally threw himself into his duties, churning through the paperwork with Sira, setting a tight training schedule for his silver knights, inviting over the applicants to see if they could get hired (and fortunately he could hire quite a few of them), capturing Undead and escort them to the asylum (a good few of them were send to Seath until they had enough free men to escort all of them to the asylum) and fighting demons that had wandered into the human settlements from Lost Izalith. 

All of this he did hoping that the exhaustion would make his nightmares vanish, but it was all in vain. Pretty much each night he was seeing Artorias getting swallowed by the abyss in another gruesome way, pretty much every time he needed to vomit afterwards and as a result he barely felt like eating anything anymore and now him losing weight became apparent. For him at last, every other person would only see him in his armour, hiding how thin he had become. 

Right at this moment he was limping back into the cathedral. He had fought another Taurus Demon and right when the creature had collapsed at his death blow, he did had a moment of weakness and lunged to the side to late, so that his right leg had gotten buried under the massive leg of the creature. While he was sure that he at least hadn't broken it, the leg still hurt terribly and would need treatment. But Ornstein still was reluctant to go to the infirmary. The work load didn't cease and he felt like he couldn't afford taking even a few days off. So he was standing at the silver knight roll call point, propped on his spear, unsure of what to do. That is when he heard the voice of Terrick. 

“Captain, are you feeling alright?”, he asked. “Lately you don't seem like it.” 

Ornstein turned around, looking at Terrick, asking: “Huh, what makes you think that I am not feeling alright. I am fine, really.” The lie came far too easy over his lips. 

“Well, for instance, you were heavily limping just a few minutes ago.”, Terrick said. “And even before that, when I looked at you, you felt like you had to keep it together, as if you wanted to appear alright so that our morals wouldn't drop. But, captain, I have known you long enough now to get it when something is wrong.” 

Shit, Ornstein underestimated his knights. First Amira and now Terrick noticed it too. They wouldn't let themselves deceive any further apparently. And things only got worse when Amira rounded a corner, apparently having eavesdropped on their conversations and said:

“Captain, have you been to the infirmary after New Londo? Having to vomit because of stress is never a good thing. You should really think about getting some rest. We can handle this crisis. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to lose some of your closest friends. Please let us take a bit of the load of you. We can understand.” 

There they were, two of the best knights Ornstein could probably have and he still felt like he wasn't allowed to load any of his baggage on them. It was his and his alone to carry and he wouldn't and couldn't ever let his knights take this burden. 

“I appreciate your concern, but really, I am feeling fine, I am sorry I made you worry.”, Ornstein said with a forced smile under his helmet and then his world got dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to be honest, I got a bit pissed at the game, cause loads of the enemies in it actually leave corpses, but for my story to work I needed to have the Dark Wraiths dissolved like our player character does, so that they figure out they are undead. 
> 
> So forgive me these liberties with the lore. I had great trouble finding this out. Originally I just wanted to let Ornstein and his platoon fail at fighting them, but making them undead felt like it fit better into the narrative of the game and also was a good reason to why New Londo got flooded.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwyndolin confronts Ornstein about his poor health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, I have to apologize. I had the greatest struggle continuing to writing this story, I felt like I had lost the touch with it and started to hate my own story, almost wishing that it never existed. I was extremely insecure about my writing and it didn't help that any other fanfiction I was reading felt so much better written and thought out and I was just frustrated and wanted to half ass finish it.
> 
> But then some dear friends I knew from tumblr or twitter helped me go over my insecurities and brought back my motivation. And so I managed to write the end to this story. It is cut in two chapters, or it would have been too long, but you can expect the last chapter soon, probably in two or three days and until then you can enjoy the penultimate chapter. I am thanking everyone who read this story and left kudos, bookmarks or comments.

Slowly Ornstein opened his eyes, blinking a few times until they had adjusted to the far too bright light for his taste. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, that wasn't his bedroom or the infirmary. He felt weak and exhausted and in pain, especially the right leg. The last thing he remembered was talking to his silver knights and what had happened then? 

He carefully tried to lift his upper body up, surprised by a sting in his fingers when he used his left hand for support. He looked at it and saw that his pinkie finger and his ring finger seemed to be splinted and bandaged.

“Ornstein, are you awake? Would you please not to move around so much, I still need to treat your leg.” That was the voice of Gwyndolin. Ornstein stopped staring at his fingers and moved his gaze over to them, they were in the process of treating his bruised leg. 

“Sorry.”, Ornstein said and laid back down, waiting for Gwyndolin to finish. His thoughts already had bone back to his duties. Once Gwyndolin would have finished patching him up, he would stand up and leave right away. Until then...

“What happened?”, Ornstein wanted to know. 

“You collapsed. The silver knights brought you here.”, Gwyndolin answered, putting a gentle pressure on his leg, making Ornstein wince. “Good, this leg isn't broken, but it is heavily bruised. You will limp for a while.” They got an ointment and applied it to Ornstein's leg who winced again at the pain, but endured it. He was a knight after all. He was used to keep it together while getting injuries treated. 

“Take it easy with this leg until it fully healed. You better not go hunting demons or any other foe in this size for a while.”, Gwyndolin said while they wrapped a bandage around it. 

“Got it.”, Ornstein said. “What happened to my fingers? Last time I checked they weren't hurt.”

“You must have broken them when you fell down. You are quite tall and wear several pounds of armour.”, Gwyndolin answered. They slithered a meter away from the bed, collecting their medicinal supplies. 

Ornstein lifted himself up again, this time using his right hand for support. A sudden wave of nausea washed over him and he laid back down, waited a few minutes until it was over and lifted himself up again, taking a look around in the Dark Moon Tomb. 

“Where is my armour?”, he asked. He wanted to get back to his duties as quickly as possible and it wasn't possible without his armour. 

“The silver knights who brought you here made sure to remove it first, which was a clever move or do you expect them to carry you here with several pounds of plate armour on top of your normal weight?” 

“True.”, Ornstein got up from the bed, winced when the bruised leg hit the ground and had to fight another wave of nausea. He managed to get it away with a few deep breathes. 

“Thanks for treating my wounds, Gwyndolin, but now I need to get back to my duties.”

Ornstein limped over to the exit of the tomb. He hoped the silver knights had brought his armour (and his spear which was also missing) back into his room or he needed to search for it first. And he still had so much stuff to do. Writing the report about fighting this demon, going on his patrol, training the silver knights, especially the new recruits, escort the Undead from the Archives to the Undead Asylum... Ornstein didn't even notice that Gwyndolin observed him silently with a blank look. 

Just when Ornstein had reached the door of the Dark Moon Tomb, he ran into a thick, white fog. “What the hell?”, he wondered himself and then turned around to see that it had been Gwyndolin who raised the fog gate. 

“I don't think this is very funny, Gwyndolin.”, Ornstein growled. “Let me out.” 

“No.”, Gwyndolin said. “I want you to go back into this bed.” 

“I need to go back to my duties, just let me out.”, Ornstein demanded. 

“No, just go back into bed.”, Gwyndolin said. “You are not only hurt, but also sick. In this state you are more a danger than a help to your knights.”

Ornstein froze at the tone of their voice. They didn't pleaded for him to go into bed, they were ordering him. If he wouldn't obey, he was sure Gwyndolin would force him. Of course Ornstein was physically far stronger than them, but with their knowledge of moonlight magic and illusionary magic, they wouldn't had any trouble to force him right where they wanted him to have. And even though Ornstein had denied it for weeks now, he was in a weakened state. He reluctantly left the door and limped back to the bed. 

“Why don't you let me leave?”, he asked after he had laid down back on it. “It is true I got injured, but it isn't very bad. And I don't even have a fever, how can you think I am sick?”

“Do you know how worried the silver knights were who brought you here? Why do you think they brought you to the tomb instead of the infirmary after you collapsed?”, Gwyndolin snapped. 

Ornstein opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He had noticed that he wasn't in the infirmary, but he hadn't even thought about why. 

“They told me ever since you have come back from Oolacile that you hadn't felt like yourself. That you pushed yourself far too hard. And that you have gotten sick from it.”

Ornstein wanted to curse, but his nausea came back full force as everything flooded back into him. How Amira and Terrick had called him out on his poor health. That he didn't need to shoulder alone and that it was alright for him to take a rest. And just as he had assured him that the was fine, he had collapsed. Ornstein clasped a hand over his mouth but it felt too late. Luckily, Gwyndolin handed him a bucket before he could soil himself and the bed. 

“Sorry for this...”, Ornstein murmured once he was sure that his stomach calmed down and let himself fall back in the pillows. Gwyndolin handed him a blanket which he took to cover himself, suddenly he felt cold and shivered. 

Gwyndolin sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ornstein, be honest with me. Have you griefed properly for Artorias?” 

“I, um...”, Ornstein started but his voice trailed off and got lost. Since he had gotten the message about his death, he did had have several breakdowns, but that could hardly be described as proper grieving. His time in Oolacile was spent with attending to Artorias burial ceremony and killing time until it was ready. He didn't had grieved but tried to occupy his mind with other stuff, still hardly believing that Artorias was dead. And the moment he had returned to Anor Londo, he practictally had thrown himself into his duties, just wanting to not think about it anymore and every time it happened, he told himself to keep it together. A part of him probably still was hoping that Artorias and Ciaran would come back through the large gate of the cathedral anytime, even though he knew how impossible it was. 

“No.”, he finally answered. 

“And you thought that was healthy?” Ornstein could hear the anger in Gwyndolin's voice. “Your knights told me that you needed to vomit and said that it was just a little stress. They also told me that you overslept quite a bit. And they had the feeling that you tried very hard to keep it together, as if you long had reached a breaking point and could barely contain it anymore.”

They stood up and extended an arm, pointing at him.

“And then they bring me to you, injured and in this sorry state and the first thing you do is wanting to leave despite still being sick enough that you can't keep your food down!”, they finished their rant. 

“It's...”, Ornstein started again but apparently was unable to finish any sentence. _It's true._ He wanted to say. _I tried so hard to keep it together, I didn't want anyone to see me like this, like this mess that I have become._ Instead, he just started to sob. Gwyndolin's words felt like the dam had finally broken, the dam he had worked so hard on to keep it together. 

Gwyndolin set down on the edge of the bed again. “I know it is hard, but you need to take your time to let all your sorrow out.” 

“That's not it.”, Ornstein sobbed. “It was my fault. I should have known! Known that Artorias would get corrupted! I should have never send him down there!” He felt terrible only thinking about it. He was reminded of his first night in Oolacile when he had thought about all this, when he had another breakdown, when he had needed to vomit again, the night he practically hadn't found any sleep anymore. 

“You are blaming yourself.” It wasn't a question but a statement. “It is the same with you every time... You know that Artorias would have gone onto this mission even if you wouldn't have send him.” 

“I still should have done something, anything!”, Ornstein brought out between sobs, now covering his face in his hands. 

“I would like to talk further about this, but first, you need to take some time until you calm down.”, Gwyndolin observed. They stayed with Ornstein sitting on the edge of the bed the whole time until Ornstein had calmed down, which took him a good while. All the tears he had suppressed were flowing out at once. He was mourning the loss of his friend, mourning the loss of Ciaran as a knight, had to face how lonely he felt now. After his sobs had died down to occasional sniffing, Gwyndolin handed him a handkerchief. 

“I'll get you some tea.”, they said. While they were gone, Ornstein had enough time to wipe his tears and blow his nose, hands still were shaking. He flopped down in the pillows, waiting until Gwyndolin returned with a cup of steaming hot tea. He took it in his uninjured hand, but didn't drink it right away this time. He had learned. Gwyndolin conjured up a chair with their catalyst and sat down. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”, they asked. 

“I don't know.”, Ornstein replied. “I don't really know how to put it in words.” He sighed and stared into the cup, expecting that Gwyndolin would force him to talk.

“Understood.”, they said and Ornstein turned his head in surprise. They got up and came back with a piece of paper and a pencil. “How about you draw or write about it instead?” 

Ornstein didn't answer right away, his gaze locked at the cup of tea again. He took a tiny sip from it until he felt it had cooled down and put it on the night stand, extending his hands to show Gwyndolin that he wanted to give it a try. 

Gwyndolin handed the items to Ornstein and raised their catalyst to conjure a wooden board, that Ornstein could use as writing pad. 

Ornstein had decided that he wanted to draw out his feeling. It wasn't as easy to hold the writing pad with two broken fingers, but nobody expected a master piece of him. Granted, even Ornstein's scribbles looked a lot better than the drawings of most average artists, he did had time to practice for hundreds of years now. So Ornstein started to scribble around on the paper. 

He drew Artorias and Sif how they walked into the chasm. 

He drew how Artorias left the chasm injured and dripping with black goo. 

He drew himself fighting against Artorias. 

He drew himself again collapsed over Artorias corpse, with his spear stuck into his chest.

He drew himself corrupted by the abyss, dark lightning coming from his spear. 

He drew Artorias and himself, both of them corrupted and on a rampage. 

And the last picture he drew was himself again, alone, broken down on the floor while Artorias, Ciaran and Gough were walking away. 

After he had finished the drawings, he put them down, laid himself down into the pillows and closed his eyes. He suddenly had become so very tired. He just wanted to sleep and so he didn't notice that Gwyndolin picked up his drawings while he drifted off to sleep. 

After Ornstein awoke, Gwyndolin was awaiting him, with the drawings he had made. 

“How are you feeling?”, they asked. 

Ornstein hesitated before answering. They didn't want to know how his physical state was, he was sure of it. After what had felt like an eternity, he opened his mouth to speak. “Guilty.”, he admitted. “Lonely.” 

“Judging from your drawings you thought about different scenarios.”, Gwyndolin said, looking at the picture. “And what I see here are outcomes even worse than what actually happened.” 

“I know...”, Ornstein murmured. “I was thinking about all the things I could have done different and every outcome was worse than the other. But...”, he pulled the blanket over his head and continued in a muffled voice, “It also could have turned out alright, but now I will never know. I lost the only chance I had. Artorias won't ever come back. Ciaran will never leave his grave. In the end, I failed both of them.” 

“I want to tell you to stop blaming yourself, it isn't healthy, but I have felt the same far too often.”, Gwyndolin said. “I have asked myself so often if it had been my fault that my brother turned traitor. If it was my fault that my sister left us. If I should have tried and held back my father from leaving.”

Ornstein reappeared from the blankets, staring at Gwyndolin.

“You have never said anything.”, he said in a reproachful tone.

“Have you?”, Gwyndolin countered and Ornstein felt like hiding beneath the blankets again. 

“It isn't healthy feeling like this. It is eating at yourself. You will get sucked down in a vortex of guilt and what ifs. I am sure you have gotten sick because of it. Are you still feeling nauseous by the way?”, Gwyndolin continued their remarks. 

Ornstein carefully thought about it. Most of the time, when he had vomited, he felt awful, like it could have start right again away, like having food poisoning. But since he had cried out all his tears, his head had hurt and his throat had felt dry, but he hadn't felt nauseous once. He shook his head. 

“That is a start.”, Gwyndolin smiled at him. “But I need you to stay here until you are fully recovered. It won't do anyone any good when you have a relapse, especially not yourself.”

“But what about my duties?”, Ornstein asked, staring at the ceiling. 

“You can trust your silver knights a little bit more, can't you?”

Gwyndolin kept Ornstein a few days longer into the dark moon tomb, making sure that nothing that could stress him came his way and gave him a scolding whenever he wanted to talk about his duties and more tried to get him to open up about what had happened to him since he had gotten the message of Artorias death. And with their help, Ornstein finally was able to face and work through Artorias death and he told them almost the full story, only leaving out the mental breakdowns he had. Having to tell about his nightmares and how often he had needed to vomit felt worse enough. 

“I just miss them.”, Ornstein said the day Gwyndolin confronted him about that last doodle on the paper. “All of them.”

“I can relate.”, Gwyndolin said. “You know that pretty much my whole family left me alone. Sometimes there are just days where I miss them so much that it hurts.” 

“What are you doing when this happens?”, Ornstein wanted to know.

“When I have a day like this, I...”, Gwyndolin trailed off, seeming to stare into nothingness. “It probably is stupid, but...”

“I won't laugh.”, Ornstein promised, noticing their struggle. 

Gwyndolin took a few deep breathes and continued their story. “I conjure up illusions of them. Of my brother, my sister, my father. We spend the whole day together and have fun and laugh and it is like they have never left.”

“Does it help?”

“A bit. I perfectly know it isn't real, but by pretending that they are still with me, I don't feel as lonely anymore.”, Gwyndolin stared at the ceiling of the tomb before focusing their gaze on Ornstein. “I could do it for you too.”

That was... a gracious offer. Ornstein thought about it. Would it make him feel better to interact with his fellow knights and friends again, even if they were just illusions? Wouldn't it make him feel even more lonely once the spell was broken? Also, it didn't feel right to ask Gwyndolin to use their magic for such a mundane thing. And would Gwyndolin even be able to capture their personality? They knew their family, about that Ornstein was sure, but... 

“I am thankful for your offer, Gwyndolin, but I think I'll pass.”, Ornstein said. 

“It is your choice and you can always ask if you change your mind.”, Gwyndolin said. 

“I will let you know should this be the case.”, Ornstein said and smiled at them. And it felt like the first genuine smile he had given in a while.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein is working on feeling better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter ahead and it is a pretty long one. Please enjoy and thanks for staying with me during this ride.

After around a week had passed, Gwyndolin finally allowed Ornstein to leave the Dark Moon Tomb. Ornstein had needed that break as much as he hated to admit it. His nausea had subdued and the constant ache in his stomach had greatly tuned down. It now was apparent to him that his sickness had stemmed from him trying to keep it together. 

For his injuries, he couldn't do anything about the broken fingers, but that shouldn't hinder him much, at least it was only on the left hand. His bruised leg still hurt a bit, but was on a good way to heal completely, with him able to walk on it quite normally. 

Now that Gwyndolin had allowed Ornstein to leave, he was very eager to get back into his armour. In fact, he felt a bit uncomfortable having to walk the distance to the cathedral without it. It was a good thing that the streets were pretty unoccupied. Granted, that might have also been because Ornstein had decided to walk back once the night had fallen. His gaze was on the bright full moon as he walked. Ever since Gwyndolin had taken up the mantle to rule over Anor Londo the moon had been full every single night. Ornstein had never questioned it, they were a god under the protection of the moon overall. It didn't occur to Ornstein how cold the nights in Anor Londo had become. 

As Ornstein approached the cathedral, the silver knights standing guard there greeted him.

“Captain, it is good to see that you feel better.”

“Don't worry about the cathedral, we took good care of it in your absence.”

Ornstein thanked them with a smile and made his way to his room, hoping that his armour had been brought there. To his relief, it was there along with his spear. After not being able to wearing it for so long and because Ornstein wasn't tired at all yet, he put it on, only with a little trouble because of the restricted movement of his left hand. After he was done, he picked up his spear and looked at himself in the mirror. 

Seeing the fierce expression of the lion helmet instead of his face brimming with his insecurities and anxiety, made him feel a lot better about himself. Gwyndolin was saying that he should be more true to himself, but Ornstein didn't felt anything wrong about using his armour to keep up his composure. He still was the captain of the knights and while he had allowed himself a moment of weakness, it had to be over now. 

He adjusted his armour until it fit perfectly and left his room, wandering through the cathedral, greeting any silver knight or servant he saw and eventually stopped in front of the so called silver knight ask box. It looked like there actually were some messages in it. Well, he hadn't checked it for a while now. Ornstein gathered the box and headed for the conference room with it. 

When he opened the door to the conference room he first deeply sighed at the sight of the paperwork and then froze because he saw Sira sitting there. Without her helmet for once, working on the paperwork. 

“Sira, what...?”, he started and she jerked up, frantically fishing for her helmet and got it on before answering him. 

“Oh, Captain Ornstein, are you feeling better?”, she asked. “I was handling the paperwork. I have made stacks for stuff that you still need to sign and stuff that I can't do on my own, but everything else is pretty much done, I wanted to turn it in once I finished the last few bits.” 

“Have you done this the whole week?”, Ornstein was astounded as he gazed along the paperwork, messy lumps now neatly organized. It even intimidated him how big the stacks had become. He thoroughly hoped the biggest one wasn't the “to sign” stack. 

“Yes, but I liked doing it. To be honest, I only joined the silver knight because my parents wanted me to. I never felt much for fighting, organizing stuff is a lot easier for me.”

“I am impressed. This helps so much. That you managed to do all this work in such a short time. I should assign you to do the paperwork exclusively.” 

“Actually, I would rather cherish that.”

Ornstein stared at Sira, then at the paperwork, then at Sira again. He was half during the process to formulate a sentence in his head that she didn't need to and that it was his duty to do the paperwork and he just needed to stop procrastinating it, but then he asked himself. Why shouldn't he lot Sira do the paperwork? She had told him that she liked it more than doing the usual duties of a silver knight. 

“Well then, Sira, I assign you to be in charge of the paperwork.”, Ornstein said. 

“I will fulfill this task to the best of my belief.”, Sira answered and bowed to him. She took a bunch of papers with her, to Ornstein's relief from the biggest stack, pointed the one out he still needed to sign and left the room. Only when she had left Ornstein noticed that she hadn't stuttered once talking to him this time. 

With Sira gone, Ornstein put the ask box down on the table and his gaze laid on the stack to sign for a moment. He should probably sign it, better sooner as later, but for now, he wanted to open the ask box first. He removed the lid and fished the first message out. 

The silver knight ask box had been established a long time ago, back when all four knights of Gwyn still had been around, when the dragon war still had been raging on, when Lord Gwyn and even the Firstborn had still been around. Ornstein had bought the little box because he had become sick and tired of having to answer the same question to every silver knight individually, so he put the box down, instructed the silver knights to put any questions in it and at the end of the day he and the other knights of Gwyn would go through them and tell the silver knights their answers at the next roll call. 

Ornstein was expecting to see a few requests in the box, so when he unfolded the message and looked at it, he got surprised to see the words: “Captain, are you feeling alright lately? It doesn't seem like it. May I suggest you get some rest?” 

He unfolded the next message only to be greeted with a similar sounding message: “Captain, don't worry too much about taking a break, we can handle it until you feel better.” 

Ornstein fished a third message out of the box, which read: “Captain, if I don't see you take a break soon, then me and Terrick will drag you to the infirmary.” It was signed by Amira, of course. 

The rest of the messages were all like this. Concerns, the knights telling Ornstein not to worry about it, them begging him to take a break and even a few that must have been tossed in only recently, because they asked him if he felt better. 

“You guys.”, Ornstein murmured to himself. “Why did I think I had to shoulder it all alone? I should have trusted my knights a little bit more...” He laid his head down on the table, overwhelmed by the kindness of his silver knights and his gaze fell onto the papers that still needed to be signed.

Ah well, he could get to them now. He felt that he at least owed Sira this. And if he only had to sign the papers it wouldn't take long. He fetched a quill and an ink pot and got started.  
___

Later that day Ornstein was going through the stuff he had brought back from Oolacile. It wasn't much of course, he hadn't been there for sightseeing and he already had unpacked all the clothes he had brought with him and gave them to the laundry team. 

What he hadn't unpacked yet, where the sketches he had made back then. Gough, Ciaran, the Sanctuary Guardian and some flowers from Dusk's garden. He remembered that he once had also drawn Dusk's maiden, but he had given the picture to them. Ornstein stared at the sketches. Didn't he thought about giving them some colour once he returned? He wasn't too sure though when he had used the easel the last time. He should check if the colours there were still moist and hadn't dried up yet. 

However, before Ornstein wanted to visit the painting room, he picked up the sketch of Ciaran in front of the makeshift grave. Back then, Ciaran had shooed him away and he didn't had a chance to finish it yet. He let his gaze wander over the sketch. Ciaran's general posture had already been sketched out, how she had kneeled in front of the grave, hands folded into a prayer stance. Ornstein grabbed for a pencil, an item he usually would carry around with him and set the tip on the paper, it made a scratching sound once he drew the lines of Ciaran's helmet, the distinct shape, resembling a hornet. 

He couldn't look at her for reference right now, but he didn't need to. He had seen her almost every single day for a few centuries, she was vividly in front of his inner eye. He continued the sketch with adding her distinct ponytail, unlike his, it had been added to her helmet, but Ornstein knew it had once been her actual hair, hair that she had cut short when she became an assassin. Ornstein drew the last few lines of the braid before adding her armour, the light leather set, which was worn by all of the lord's blades, but Ciaran still managed to distinct herself from them. Her mask looked different and she herself had chosen it. Ornstein drew the narrow eyes and the thin mouth on it, the only facial feature on the mask. Once he was done, he laid his pencil down and looked at his work. 

A perfect sketch of Ciaran in her grieving, which she had done right away, instead like him, who had hid his feelings for far too long. Ciaran had decided back there and then, that her feelings were more important than her duties and stayed at Artorias grave. It hadn't even occurred to Ornstein to visit her. It must have been awful for her, maybe even more than for himself. He had a churning feeling in his chest, thinking about it. His gaze fell onto the drawing of Gough, the gentle giant, who would always carve and whittle away on some wood on this tower. They both had been worried about him, had told him several times to take care and what had he done?

Ornstein determined that he would visit both of them as soon as he had a free day. And his leg wouldn't hurt anymore. 

Now that Ornstein had finished the sketch of Ciaran, technically he felt he could venture to the painting room and look for colours, but he wasn't in the mood for it. Instead, he picked up a fresh piece of paper and his pencil. 

The first thing he roughly sketched out were a few trees. They didn't need to be very detailed, he just needed the general idea of a forest clearing on this piece. He adumbrated some grass and then the scratching of his pencil worked on the main part of this sketch, a figure leaning against a tree, legs spread out, relaxed posture. Nobody viewed Ornstein draw, but when he would have a spectator, they would have realized that he was working on Artorias the moment the lines formed his cape and hood. Ornstein added the details of Artorias armour on the drawing, the leggings that mostly resembled those of a silver knight as well as the chest piece, which was party covered by the cape though. Then the next line formed the tassel on Artorias hood, going straight down, resting on his chest. And even though most of the time, Artorias face was darkened inside that hood, Ornstein decided to add it. The gentle gaze, the charming smile, the vertical scar just above his nose, the beard shadow that grew back even after Artorias had fully shaved that morning. 

Yes, this was Artorias like he remembered him. An Artorias who was at ease with himself and the world. Ornstein hoped, that wherever Artorias mind was now, that he could find this peace, that he didn't had to wander in endless nightmares. 

Ornstein gazed at the sketch again. Actually, this wasn't complete yet. What truly made Artorias, was still missing. He added the figure of a wolf pup next to Artorias with a few strokes, curled in on itself. 

Another glance, still didn't felt finished. Ornstein didn't need to think twice about what to add. A few lines later, Artorias had his sword laid lazily over his legs, the massive size of it still making the tip bury slightly into the ground and his shield was laid protectively over Sif, as if he wanted to shield her from any harm. Ornstein laid down the drawing and felt satisfied. That was how he wanted to remember Artorias. Not like the one he had seen in his dreams... he wanted to try and remember his friend as the relaxed man chilling in the woods. 

It had gotten quite late while he had worked on the drawings. Now he had Gough, Ciaran and Artorias. Three of the four knights of Gwyn. Only one missing. 

Ornstein stared at his armour that he had stacked into a corner of the room. He stood up and walked over to it in slow, but steady steps. He studied the armour thoroughly, tried to etch every single detail into his mind. He had been wearing it pretty much every day now since he had become the first knight of Gwyn. It felt like it had become a part of his personality. 

“I wonder if this is a good thing?”, Ornstein asked himself, when he picked up the helmet and took it back with him to the table, placing it in plain sight, turned around, so that he would look at the backside. Then he straightened a new piece of paper. 

Ciaran he had drawn praying in front of the makeshift grave, Gough he had drawn carving, Artorias he had drawn relaxing in the woods. And the last knight of Gwyn?

Ornstein sketched out the cathedral, the part that was most visible for anyone who would come from Sen's fortress, the big gates, the stairs, the windows, the spires, before he sketched the figure of the dragon slayer in front of it. 

Spear firmly gripped in his right hand, his back turned to the watcher, the gaze of his lion helmet on the cathedral, his ponytail falling down his back, posture strong and assertive, showing that this place was under his protection. He truly felt like the last protector of Anor Londo. 

Ornstein dropped his pencil, after drawing that much his fingers had cramped and the broken fingers in his left hand throbbed too, although he mostly had used this hand to hold the paper down. 

Ornstein looked out of the window. He hadn't even noticed that the sun had already set. That explained why his room suddenly felt so dark. He lighted a candle and put it on his night stand. Ornstein wondered if he should go to bed straight away, but he wasn't feeling tired yet. It wouldn't hurt walking the short distance to the painting room and check for colours. He could buy any missing ones the next day on his patrol, so he grabbed the candle and left his room. 

As Ornstein was wandering through the hallways, he could hear a voice casually speaking: “...and then we all wanted to know who the mysterious piano player was and were eavesdropping at the door, but we were too greedy and then the door busted and it turned out to be... Oh, Captain Ornstein!”, Herman greeted Ornstein as he crossed the path of him and Jervis. “Is anything the matter? Do you want to check if we do our job right?”, he chuckled.

“No, I am not here for that.”, Ornstein replied, he couldn't help but feel amused. “I just wanted to check something in the painting room.” 

“Alright, captain, call us if anything happens.”, Herman said and both knights passed Ornstein. After a few more steps, Ornstein could hear how they continued their conversation. 

“So who has been the mysterious piano player?”, Jervis asked.

“That's it, it was indeed Captain Ornstein. He was furious about us eavesdropping, especially at Artorias, but he still agreed to play for us.”, Herman answered. 

That brought Ornstein back. One day he had discovered a piano in one of the guest rooms and he used to learn it as a kid. He hadn't played for a good while this particular day, so his playing was far off and sounded awful, so he came to practice every single day and got the interest of the silver knights. Playing the piano... he hadn't done it in a while yet. Ornstein thought it could be fun to do it once again, but then he remembered the broken fingers on his left hand and looked at them.

“Won't be able to hit all keys with two of them restrained liked this.”, he murmured to himself and entered the painting room he had arrived at in the meantime. 

He closed the door behind him, put the candle into his left hand (carefully to not drop it, being able to only hold it with three fingers) and headed straight for the cupboard where they kept their colours. He opened it, carefully placed the candle on the floor and checked if he had everything he would need. 

Let's see, he needed gold, red, blue, silver, white, brown, black and green mostly. Most colours were still there, but he noticed a shortage of blue and gold. Ornstein closed the cupboard, picked up the candle and went back to his room. 

The next day on his patrol Ornstein strolled over the market place and got the missing colours, a new brush when he was already on it and some treats that he intended to give to the group of cats. 

It felt a bit like Artorias ghost had possessed him when he bought the treats. Ornstein had never cared much about cats, they were far too hostile against him, but for some reason, this group had started to grow on him. While Ornstein was tossing the treats to them, he thought about that Artorias often had brought dogs or cats with him into the cathedral before he had gotten Sif, hastily hiding them in cupboard drawers until Ornstein had forced him to get them out of the cathedral.

An uneasy thought crossed Ornstein's mind. What if he still had cats and dogs hidden in his room? And nobody had entered this place for a good while now...

Orstein shook off the thought as quickly as possible, there was no way Artorias would have left some animals to starve while he was gone. Even if there had been animals in his room, he would have made sure that someone took care of them. And when he had asked Ciaran, she also would have made sure that they were taken care off. 

While Ornstein had been lost in thoughts, he hadn't noticed that the little white cat had laid down beside him, purring and he absentmindedly had started to pet it, even though his hand was covered into a cold metal gauntlet. Snowy didn't seem to mind though. Hm, strange, maybe he could get behind cats after all. 

Ornstein kept some of the treats for himself (a guilty pleasure only a few people knew about) and finished his patrol. There wasn't much going on. His silver knights did outstanding work and managed to deal with thieves, bandits and even Undead flawlessly. Ornstein had to admit, it probably helped that Seath would house the Undead until they were able to escort them to the asylum. Even though Ornstein felt like they always got less Undead back than they had brought in.

After Ornstein arrived back at the cathedral, he met up with Sira to take care of the paperwork she couldn't do on her own. After that was done, he cleaned out the silver knight ask box while eating the left over dried fish treats and saw even more supportive messages, which brought a smile on his face. One of them was from Amira and Terrick inviting him to a game of cards. Ornstein considered it, he really should try to go out more, spending time with his knights could be just what he needed. Even though he enjoyed some solitude, he had to admit that he had felt quite lonely lately, with Artorias, Ciaran and Gough gone, the three people he had spent so much time with over the course of several centuries. 

After his duties were done for the day and the silver knights were assigned to new tasks (even though Amira and Terrick had suggested they could do it, Ornstein still wanted to do this task on his own), he fetched the colours and the brush he had bought earlier as well as the sketches from his room, unsheathed from his armour and walked to the painting room. 

Ornstein prepared an easel, put the sketch on it and poured the colours on a pallet. He wanted to start with Ciaran so he mostly needed blue and some white. Soon it was only him and the strokes of his brush on the painting as Ciaran started to get some colour, first the basics, then the details. Ornstein took great care into adding lighter spots at where the sun had shone on her, he remembered the picture of her praying in front of this grave so well and that it kind of had looked beautiful how the light had reflected on her armour. 

As soon as he was finished with giving the grave some colour, Ornstein stepped back and inspected his work. He found it to be a fine piece. He would have loved to show it to Ciaran, but...

Ornstein's stomach growled and he realized how much time he already had spent in the painting room. He could finish the other paintings over the course of the next few days. As he was cleaning up and on his way to leave the room, Ornstein noticed another easel which was covered with a cloth. Curious on who had painted lately and what, he removed it and stared at a painting of himself and Artorias. 

Oh, that explained why blue and gold had been out. 

Ornstein nearly felt like crying when he looked at the painting. It wasn't a masterpiece, far from it, it was pretty crude and bristled with beginner mistakes, but he instantly knew that Artorias had painted it. Ornstein wondered if Artorias had planned to gift it to him? Had it been his birthday? Ornstein was awfully bad at remembering it, but Artorias hadn't forgotten it any single year. Every year Ornstein had received a cake from him, often along another present, often handmade. 

And now, Ornstein would never eat Artorias cake again. 

Ornstein put the cloth back over the painting, wiped away the tears that had formed in his eyes and left the painting room. 

After dinner, Ornstein decided to accept the invitation to the silver knight card game and thus it was far too late to continue his paintings once they finished and he excused himself to go to bed while the silver knights still seemed to want to stay awake a bit. After Ornstein did had so much sleeping trouble though, he decided to work on a consistent sleep schedule and go to bed at a reasonable hour each day. 

The next few days continued in this matter. Ornstein would attend to his duties, then paint until dinner and then usually spent some time with the silver knights. Over the days, the drawings became more and more coloured. 

On the first day Gough and his carvings turned into the brown and black shades the giant appeared in. On this day the silver knights wanted to play some chess and all got destroyed by Ornstein, who jokingly said they had to get Seath when they wanted a chance and ended in several silver knights trying to hold back the newbies when they actually wanted to venture into the archives. 

On the second day, Ornstein's brush strokes gave colour to Artorias and Sif, which soon appeared in their usual silver-blue as well as grey. Ornstein took so much care of tiny details, that he had to postpone painting the background, because he barely managed to finish Artorias sword once it was time for dinner. This evening, the silver knights indulged in a game of truth or dare. Ornstein didn't join, but watched from the sidelines, thinking about the times he had played it with the others. This evening when Ornstein left he felt a lump in his throat. 

The third day was spent with painting the forest around Artorias and Sif, before Ornstein managed to give colour to his self portrait. This day he didn't felt like hanging out with the silver knights and instead used the extra time after dinner to finish the drawing, added some details and painted the cathedral around himself. After he was done, he took a step back and admired his work. It had been some time since he last had painted, but this felt like some of his finest works. Now he had to find a place where he could hang them, but first, they needed to dry. 

Ornstein decided to take a bath, he had managed to splash himself with colour quite a bit. It was a bit troublesome with the splinted fingers, but at least Gwyndolin had took off the bandage around his leg in the meantime and the bruise had almost healed, so that Ornstein didn't need to limp at all anymore. Ornstein also had arranged to visit Gwyndolin on a regular basis for some tea and them talking to each other, as friends not as knight and lord and Ornstein felt like this greatly improved his mood, he had started to look forward to visiting them ever since he had left the Dark Moon Tomb. He felt like both of them needed this visits, it made them feel less lonely.

Even though Ornstein enjoyed spending time with his silver knights, they never had the same chemistry with him than Artorias, Ciaran and Gough had. Sure, they were friendly and made him feel cherished, but ultimately, Ornstein knew they still saw him as their captain and so a certain closeness was missing. Ornstein wondered if that was what Artorias had felt about him? That Ornstein involuntary had pushed him away, because he was his captain and not because Ornstein had feared that his secret got lifted? Sadly now he would never know the answer. Artorias literally had taken it to the grave with him.

This night Ornstein had a mental breakdown again. 

The next day, Ornstein had organized some picture frames, mostly from unused rooms with paintings so old that the colour already chipped off, still storing them neatly in the painting room. 

Ornstein had decided where to hang his paintings and so he was in the silver knight quarters, scanning the walls, searching for the best position to hang the paintings. Once he had found a particular long wall with enough empty space, Ornstein picked up the hammer he had brought and proceeded to knock a nail in the wall, carefully taking care to not hit his hurt fingers. It was troublesome enough already with only three fingers to hold the nail and every hit on it made the injury throb, so Ornstein was pretty glad, when some help arrived in the form of Herman. 

“Captain, let me help you with this.”, he shouted out. “It must be difficult for you to hold the nail with your injuries.” 

“Thank you, Herman.”, Ornstein said and instructed the knight to where he wanted the nails. While he was at work, Jervis popped in, curious what Herman was doing. These two knights really had become inseparable lately. Ornstein felt like they had some father-son-dynamic going on. Which also reminded him, that he never did had a father figure in his life. The closest was probably Gough, they often jokingly had said that Gough is something like the team dad of the knights of Gwyn. And Gough had just chuckled in his low voice and said that he didn't mind having three children like them now. 

Once again, reminiscing in this good old times made Ornstein feel uneasy. 

“Alright, Captain, I am done.”, Herman's voice snapped Ornstein out of this thoughts. 

“Thank you.”, Ornstein said and stood up, walking over to the paintings he already had framed. He picked the first one, that of Ciaran and hung it on the first nail on the wall. 

“Oh, we are blessed with some original Ornstein's today.”, Herman casually said. 

“What?”, Jervis asked, clearly confused. 

“You see, Captain Ornstein sometimes paints and then finds a place in the cathedral to hang the paintings. This appears to be a painting from Lady Ciaran, who sadly has left us. What is the painting called?”

“Grief.”, Ornstein answered, after checking if the painting was hanging straight. 

He picked up the next painting, the one of Gough carving. 

“It has been so many years since I last saw Sir Gough! How is he doing?”

“Fine.”, Ornstein answered. “He carves the whole day, so much, that his body is littered with chips.” 

“The title of this one?”

“Calm.”

The next painting was that of Artorias. Ornstein mulled over it for a bit before he started to hang it. This time, Herman didn't say anything. 

“I called it peace.”, Ornstein explained after hanging the painting. “It is what he deserved. It is what I hope he has.” Ornstein didn't knew yet that he never would stop wondering if Artorias had actually be able to move on. 

Only one painting left. He picked it up without taking a second glance. 

“So know we have all of the four knights of Gwn watching over us.”, Herman mused. “And what is the title of this one, captain?”

Ornstein finished hanging the painting, looked at it, looked at the floor, blinked and stared at it again. 

“The last protector.”, he finally said.  
___

“How nice to see that you bless us with our presence.”

Ciaran's word stung like a hornet. Ornstein knew she didn't mean it like that, she usually was that sarcastic. He took it as a good sign. Her spraying some poison meant that she was feeling better.

“I had a lot of stuff to do and then...”, Ornstein started but didn't continue the sentence, absentmindedly petting over Sif's head instead, removing his left gauntlet to better feel the soft fur of the animal.

“What happened to your fingers?”, Ciaran asked, suddenly standing next to him, startling Ornstein so much that he jumped. 

“Oh that...”, Ornstein said, staring at his fingers. “I fell.” 

“Fell how? Down the stairs? Or did you trip over a cat?” Ornstein could clearly hear the irony in her voice over the last line. 

“Fine, you got me, I collapsed from lack of sleep.”, Ornstein blurted out. “And then I was sick for a while and couldn't leave.”

“You insisted all this time that you were fine, but I still knew it would happen.”, Ciaran scolded him. “You should have taken care of yourself right away.” 

“To be honest, Ciaran, you put on quite a burden on me when you told me that you wouldn't return to the cathedral.”, Ornstein snapped back at her. 

“That is true. I am sorry for this, but I simply knew that I wouldn't be able to continue my duties.”, Ciaran casually explained. 

“You want to watch over his grave.”, Ornstein said, it was a statement, not an ask. “Together with Sif.”

Ciaran simply nodded and sat back down behind the grave. After a few moments, Ornstein followed her. As he passed the grave, he took a moment to pray in front of it, sending his best wishes to Artorias. The sword of the wolf knight had been slammed into the ground. Sif was still too small to use it. And it would probably take her another 100 or 200 years to grow to her full size, great grey wolfs were a long living species but also one that grew exceptionally slow. 

“So, how have you been?”, Ciaran asked once Ornstein had sat down beside her. 

“Well, you know...”, Ornstein started and then he told her almost everything what had happened until he arrived back at Anor Londo. About how he drowned himself in work, how the mission with the dark wraiths went and how he was locked up by Gwyndolin in the Dark Moon Tomb for a good weak, but he didn't tell her about the mental breakdowns he had, how much he actually had vomited or that he had hung a painting of her grieving in front of Artorias makeshift grave into the silver knights quarters. 

Eventually Ornstein had to leave. The way to Oolacile wasn't the shortest and he had used his free day for the visit, although this time he hadn't travelled on foot alone but actually paid some money for a carrier ride which greatly shortened the time. The first time around he mostly had decided to walk, because he had dreaded the arrival. And while this time he still had an empty feeling in his chest, Ornstein knew it was because he missed his friend, that was all. He probably would never stop to miss him, he only could get used to it. 

However, Ornstein didn't want to leave back to Anor Londo right away, he had another friend to visit. As soon as he had climbed the ladder and set both feet on the ground of the tower, Gough greeted him. 

“It's good to see that you are feeling better, Ornstein.” 

“Yes, I am glad about this too... wait, what?” 

Gough chuckled, that low chuckle that made Ornstein feel so much at ease. 

“It is the way you walk, the clanks of your steps are sounding totally different depending on your mood.”, Gough explained. “So, how have you been doing lately? You took your sweet time to come for a visit.”

So Ornstein told his story a second time, pretty much the same like for Ciaran, only letting out things like his mental breakdowns, although to Gough he did tell that he had hung paintings of all four knights into the silver knight quarters. 

“And when I was painting, I was discovering this other painting, it was of Artorias and me... and even though it wasn't signed I knew instantly that Artorias had painted it. Had he told you something about it?” 

Gough stopped his carving and pondered for a bit, but then shook his head: “No, Artorias hasn't said anything about having done a painting. I guess he wanted it to be a surprise. Why don't you consider it as his last gift?” 

“I was thinking about it anyway. Thanks for your advice, old friend.” 

They both stayed like that and chatted a bit more until Ornstein really had to leave, or he would miss the carrier departing towards Anor Londo and he was supposed to pick his duties back up tomorrow. From the base of tower, Ornstein could see how Gough waved to him and Ornstein waved back. 

Even though his knights weren't with him anymore, he could still visit them. And that made Ornstein feel a bit less lonely.  
___

Ornstein was in his room, searching for a place to hang the painting of Artorias he had discovered in the painting room. It took him a long while to find a a place, trying out quite a few, being unsatisfied and searching for another place until he finally settled at the door. Then, he could look at it every time he left his room. And Ornstein felt like Artorias deserved this, even if he didn't knew if the painting had been intended as a gift, the dragon slayer had known the wolf knight for so long, that he pretty much didn't had any doubt about it. He would cherish this last gift Artorias had ever made him. He wanted to be able to look at it every day without even forgetting once. So the door was the perfect place for it. After he was done, Ornstein took a few steps back and just admired the painting. 

Not everything was fine yet. Sometimes Ornstein still awoke in cold sweat because of a nightmare. Sometimes Ornstein still had mental breakdowns. Sometimes he had to just leave the hangout time with the silver knights because his feelings overwhelmed him and he needed to calm down. But at the same time, Ornstein had started to talk more to Gwyndolin about everything that troubled him (but he still left out he had mental breakdowns, he didn't want to burden them with this knowledge) and he regularly visited Ciaran, Gough, Sif and Artorias in Oolacile. 

But Ornstein felt like he had to do one last thing to get full closure, to finally being able to accept Artorias death. 

He was staying in front of Artorias room and took a few deep breathes, pacing back and forth until ten minutes had passed. “This is ridiculous, just enter.”, Ornstein scolded himself but knocked at the door first, exclaiming “Artorias, it's me, Ornstein, I am coming in.”, even though he knew Artorias couldn't be in there.

It still felt right to do it. They always had announced when they intended to enter the other's room. When Ornstein opened the door and entered, what he was seeing was a nice, tidy and cozy room. 

That was so very much Artorias, he loved to keep his stuff neat and clean, just like his handwriting. The bed was neatly made, some blue sheets with a wolf pattern was on it, which made Ornstein smile, that was so fitting. The table in the room had a tea service ready to use on it. There were some books stacked on the night table, Artorias probably had intended to read them after he returned. There was a cupboard and when Ornstein opened it, Artorias clothes were hung in place, a few missing, the ones he had taken with him to Oolacile. 

Ornstein also opened the drawers and sighed in relief when he didn't see any cats or dogs in them, especially because after so much time had passed they already had starved. But Ornstein also knew that Artorias would have never let that happen, he loved animals for too much for this. 

Ornstein sat down on the bed. It was soft and yielded under his weight. He took the first book on the night stand and opened it. 

It was Artorias cookie recipe book. Ornstein stared at his beautifully handwritten recipes and at the drawings he had added of the cookies. He stared at the notes Artorias had made. Notes about which cookie which of the knight liked the most and even notes how to make more unliked cookies better so that everyone of them could enjoy them.

Ornstein put the book aside. He felt tears streaming down his face. But, this time, he just let them be. He allowed himself this moment of grief. Yes, Ornstein would need to keep it together for a little while longer. 

But he hadn't to keep it together right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the end. Thanks for everyone who supported this story. I would love to hear your opinions.
> 
> Even though I halfway wanted to give up on this story, I am glad that I could get my muse back and write out this last chapter, with a scene I wanted to use to end it with over a year ago, when I first thought about writing it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my take on how Ornstein would take Artorias death and maybe we'll see each other again on another work of mine.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this work, please consider leaving me a comment and/or check out my other works. Thank you very much.


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